


Nightingale

by AdorableWords



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Blood and Gore, Character Development, College Student Hermione, Creampie, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dark, Degradation, Dom/sub, F/M, Gangs, Gangsters, Gaslighting, Graphic Description, Gun Violence, Hermione is 19, Kidnapping, Loss of Innocence, Lots of creampies, Love?, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Minor Character Death, Multiple Orgasms, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive Tom Riddle, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Tom Riddle, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Family Death, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Power Dynamics, Psychopath Tom Riddle, Rough Sex, Smut, Squirting, Stockholm Syndrome, Tattoos, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Thriller, Tom is 31, Total Power Exchange, Trauma, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, age gap, daddy - Freeform, ddlg elements, good girl, tomione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorableWords/pseuds/AdorableWords
Summary: "Tell me, Darling: Who owns these lips that scream and beg for only my name, those pretty eyes that show every ounce of submission for me, and every tight little hole that drips my cum when I say so? Who truly owns you, Kitten?"~~~Young and innocent college student Hermione Granger merely stumbled into a bar late at night after a dreadfully long day, filled to the brim with stress and craving nothing more than the slow, sweet release of burning alcohol infiltrating her system. She was behind in two of her most important classes, she had not properly slept in over a week, her body ached from walking miles from her broken down old car, she was soaked from the worst rainstorm that has ever hit London, and, for the cherry on top, her heart has been smashed onto the floor, shattering into a million sharp fragments, over her high school sweetheart Ron Weasley dumping her this morning. She had to admit it: she was a complete and utter mess. Had Hermione known she was doomed from the moment she stepped foot into the rustic classic bar when a pair of sinister eyes fell upon her illuminating figure, she would have ran as far and as fast as she could.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 94
Kudos: 405





	1. The Pleasure of Losing Control

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya everyone! This is another crack at my first fandom posted here and let's hope it all goes well! Fair warning: I am a university student, therefore I am busy majority of the time but I will try my very best to keep updating at least once or twice every week or two. Another serious warning: this story will not be for the faint of heart - trust me. Please do read the tags, which I will try to update with every single post, and leave if anything seriously bothers you. This story is intended for mature 18+ audiences, read at your own risk. I do not own anything created by J.K Rowling or Harry Potter Universe, I simply own this story. 
> 
> Note: I do not condone anything that I have written to be morally right in any form, nor am I trying to romanticize anything. This is simply an idea I have thought about and desired to write about. 
> 
> I'm always up for feedback and support! Hope you are all staying safe and enjoy the story :)

The very moment her bright honey eyes landed on the flickering neon sign, a sudden calming sensation swallowed her whole and devoured her bashful temptation until it throbbed and ached to surface within her jumbled thoughts. For the first time ever, the innocent Hermione Granger decided on doing something she normally would never think twice about - but if any day was the day to make a different decision from her 'good girl' persona, it certainly was today. With teeth sinking softly into her lower plump bottom lip and trembling cold fingers that were tucked inside of her jacket pockets, she paused her moments in the trickling rain outside of the lively bar and contemplated going back home. She definitely did not have time to waste, nor the hard-earned money she saved - but in this very moment of need, for once in her life, Hermione did not care. Yes, today would be the day she drowned her sorrows within the bittersweet release of intoxicating alcohol, respectively. She wanted this, needed this. Quickly walking over to the chipped gold metal handle, hearing the sounds of her footsteps slosh and padded against the wet pavement, she instantly tugged open the door without a second thought. Hermione nearly stumbled into the bar from the backswing of the door as she shuffled her thin and shivering body into the building. With a sudden feeling of desirable warmth wash over her as the sounds of small chatter and rock n' roll drifted into her ears, the girl took a moment to take it all in. Almost instantly, panic flooded her system. She was young, most likely the youngest in a bar filled with mainly older men, and the feeling of being in the wrong place swelled her anxiety. She did not belong and probably stuck out like a sore thumb to everyone else, but it already felt too late to turn back as eyes casually glanced over towards her figure. She needed this, she convinced herself repeatedly to hopefully bring some sort of comfort. Trying her very best to ignore some of the curious stares that demanded to be caught, her hands wrapped around her frigid form before quickly spotting a lone bar stool right on the edge of the back section at the bar and made her way over to it. Plopping her school bag down beside the chair and shrugging her jacket off, inviting the warmth on the soft bare skin of her arm, Hermione sat down calmly with her lower lip sucked into her mouth. It seemed like less than a millisecond before the old bartender waddled over to her, coming to stand right in front of her. 

"Oi, you got some ID there, Miss?" 

The rough grumble voice spoke out to her as Hermione's puppy dog eyes gazed up to the much, much taller man. She must have looked horrible, she quickly thought to herself, much less too young to be in a bar. Thankfully, her recent birthday had passed last month and she was certainly considered an adult. Quickly nodding, Hermione reached down to her bag and grabbed out the needed card. She slid it over on the smooth yet sticky bar top as the man inspected it closely before nodding. 

"Thank you." The man replied before handing her card back, "What can I get ya?" For some reason, only one strong drink was coming to mind - Ron's favourite. 

"One shot of tequila, please." Her voice sounded shy, a little raspy from all the sobbing, and almost too quiet for the atmosphere. The man, who certainly looked to be older than what her father's age would now be, chuckled as he placed a large shot glass on the countertop. The clank sound of the glass thumping against the bar made the girl shiver.

"That bad of a Tuesday, huh?" The bartender questioned as Hermione eagerly watched the slightly gold tinted liquid pour smoothly into the glass right to the brim. 

"Worse, actually. I've had the worst day of my life today." She responded quietly, taking the shot into her small frail hand as her eyes never left the glass. She had not drank anything for a long time, nearly since her birthday - but even then, all she had was one beer. Admittedly, she was not a fan of drinking. Hermione never found the pleasure of fully losing control, she would rather keep her brain sharp and in stable condition. However, today was the day that would change for an hour or so. She needed this, or so she convinced herself. The man was still for a few moments, carefully watching the tired girl before he pulled out another shot glass and filled it with shot of tequila, once again right to the brim. Sliding it over beside her first one, he gave her a caring nod as she raised a curious eyebrow. 

"This one's on the house for ya, Miss. We've all had horrible days." He paused for a moment, scanning her face before continuing. "Name's Hagrid, by the way. We don't usually get many youngins in this bar, but I'll be the first to welcome ya." Hermione sent the man a small kind smile, one that barely tipped the corners of her lips. She had not had a moment to relax all day, and for this gentle moment, she was thankful. She was not nearly in the mood to smile or have a good time, but she owed the man the curtsey of kindness for his offer. 

"Hermione, and thank you, Hagrid." With that, the girl brought the first shot to the edge of her lips and tilted her head back to down it all in one sweep. The moment she swallowed, an instant burning feeling scratched devilishly at her throat as her face cringed in the worst possible way with a slight cough. How could have Ron ever taken this? It was almost pure gasoline in her mind. Licking her lips as her eyebrows forwarded, the girl slowly shook her head as a small breath tumbled out of her mouth. Hagrid sent her a small chuckle once more before taking the used glass to clean it.

"Let me know if you need anything more, Hermione." With that, the gentle giant walked away to attend to another customer. She bade him a small smile in thankfulness as her honey eyes trailed back down to the other shot. Normally one beer would be it for her, not that she enjoyed the taste at all, but to feel part of the collective of drinkers. Maybe after this second shot, she would be good to truly relax. There was no time like the present, she reminded herself as her thin fingers grasped the glass. With a shallow swallow of air, the girl brought the poison up to her lips and downed the awful shot, however this time, she nearly gagged from its potency.

With her face cringed and her belly feeling warmer by the second, Hermione barely noticed a tall body slide onto the bar stool beside her. Taking a small glance beside her as the motion slightly startled her, she focused her gaze back down on the empty shot to toy against the edge with her clear coat painted fingertip. Hermione much rather preferred to be alone in her hour of stepping out of her comfort zone and tequila becoming her solace. Then again, when did she not prefer to be alone? She had always worked better alone at her small job, done better on her own in classes, and would have been better off alone rather than tossing herself into a relationship.

"You enjoy becoming soaked by the rain, I take it?" A smooth, charming, and utterly deep voice calmly drifted into her ears from her left, causing the college girl to nearly roll her eyes. This day could not have gotten absolutely more worse, and the very last thing she needed was a man to try to pick her up in the introverted moment of peaceful abyss hours after Ron broke her heart in two. Resisting the urge to telling the man to politely piss off, Hermione bottled up her feelings and responded while keeping her eyes on the empty glass and trailing her fingertip against the rim of the shot. 

"Well when your car breaks down for some mysterious reason after class and you have forgotten your phone at home due to waking up late so you are unable to call a tow or a friend, walking is your only logical option." She responded with a tad bit of annoyance, taking the moment to now finally glance up at the man beside her and nearly choked on her own spit. He was absolutely beautiful to say the very least. Chiselled face, immaculate structure, chocolate loose curls atop his head, a crooked warming smirk, and eyes that showed every ounce of interest she has ever seen. Even sitting he was nearly a foot taller than her, and for some reason, she loved that. Caught in a moment of shock, her face instantly flushed and burned with the heat of the sun before she continued. "So yes, I guess you can say I enjoy becoming soaked." His smirk widened into a cheeky smile before the girl could recognize her innocent mistake, feeling her eyes widening before stumbling over her words once more. "From the rain, I mean." 

The man let out a breathy laugh as he held perfect, charming eye contact the entire time during her embarrassing moment. Here she thought he would be some slimy, greasy man looking for a piece of meat to taste, and yet here the most perfect angel sat beside her. Out of all the beautiful women in the bar, he chose her. "Sounds like you've had a long day." He now gestured to her clothing which was a simple body defining olive shirt and comfortable jeans. "Sorry to mention it, I couldn't help but notice you when you walked in shivering and soaking wet. From the rain, I mean." Oh, he was teasing her and now she was slowly smiling. Hermione's face flushed even more at his comment as she could feel the dampness of her jeans cling tightly against her body.

"I would offer you my coat but unfortunately, I didn't come with one. I could buy you a drink as some sort of replacement, if you'll let me." Such a gentleman, she thought, more than Ron ever was. The now timid and shy girl shook her head instantly, trying to fix her most likely frizzed yet damp hair by pushing a few strands of her wild curls behind her ear. She did not fail to notice his curious and hot gaze follow the moments of her hand gracefully, lingering his eyes on the movement before snapping back to meet hers.

"No, please, that's too kind of you. Thank you though, um.." She tried to grasp his name and he smiled his crooked smile at her struggle. He seemed to purposefully let the air settle in a gentle silence just for a second longer as he simple gazed deep within her. Did he enjoy watching her squirm? 

"Tom, Tom Riddle. It's a pleasure to meet you," His voice almost seemed like liquid gold, silky and smooth to the touch. However, for some reason, his name sounded faintly familiar - as if she had heard it on radio or from the television at some point. Although, there were many Toms in the world, surely she must have been mistaken. Nevertheless as her mind raced, she was quick to answer.

"Hermione Granger. It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Riddle." With her response, he let out a deep laugh. 

"Please, call me Tom. I know I'm older than you but surely I'm not that old for you to address me as 'Mr. Riddle'." He paused for a moment as the girl scanned his face out of curiosity. He certainly did not look or seem older than her, maybe by a few years but not profoundly. Or was he much older? If so, he certainly did not look it at all - not a touch of grey hair nor forming wrinkles. In her fragile state of mind, she could not tell his age. He was perfect physically, she thought timidly. "You have a beautiful name, Hermione." Tom continued breathlessly, uttering those words with a gentle kindness that made the girl shiver. Now hearing that definitely left the girl soaking. The way his voice spoke her name so elegantly, it made her heart flutter within her thumping chest. There she goes again with a flushed face and mousey, bashful reaction. 

"Thank you," She stammered and found herself internally shocked by her sudden submissive nature. Hermione would never act this way in front of Ron or any guy she found to peak her interests. Normally she was sharp-witted and kept her twirling emotions to herself within protective walls that failed to shake or shatter. However, this man held such a demanding effect over her in many ways, so much so that she stumbled with her defensive facade and let her feelings slip. Maybe it was due to the alcohol - or maybe she was in a trance, stuck in a heavenly dream of her own. Panicked by her simple response as her mind whiled to continue the conversation while the two eyed each other intensely, Hermione let her lips squeak an obvious question on her mind.

"If I may ask-" She started only to be cut off sharply.

"You may." Tom's lustrous voice spoke with confidence and a dominating presence yet caring demeanour, as if _allowing_ her to continue on his own accord gently. The girl froze in her spot for a second with wide doe eyes, surprised by his words and the arousing feeling swelling deep within her. Normally she would say that to be polite - but it almost seemed like a _requirement_ for him. Her mouth pursed gently like a fish as her head tilted slightly - curious yet allured. 

"How old are you? You don't look to be a day over twenty-five in my opinion." Her hands now tangled together in her lap, ignoring the dampness of her tight jeans that tickled her skin. To this question, Tom casted another crooked smirk as he watched her carefully.

"I turn thirty-one in a few months." Instead of revealing a shocked nature, Hermione bottled that emotion tightly ad simply acted genuinely surprised. That was not what she was expecting and now all she could think of was the scolding look of pure judgment on her mother's face. Was she attracted to an older man? She would never outright admit it in the moment, but a small voice pierced the back of her mind that agreed with her feelings. She definitely was attracted to Tom or else she would not be this flustered - this vulnerable. "Does this bother you, Hermione?" 

Quick to respond, the girl shook her curls. "No." She answered honestly and shyly. It did not bother her to chat with an older man, surely all of her professors were double her age and there had been multiple times she talked with her mother's friends at dinner parties. Talking never hurt, but it was the sinful feelings clinging to her words and swirling inside of her navel in which made her feel like a liar. 

"Good." He responded simply, watching her with his devilish gaze before turning to the bartender and gaining Hagrid's attention, calling him over with a respectful wave of his hand. With his gaze finally off of her for a moment, Hermione felt as though she could finally breathe. "One tequila sunrise and a beer for myself." Hagrid nodded, glancing between the two before making her drink. 

Hermione was getting the feeling that Tom was the kind of man to demand without saying please, a dominant figure that people made way for. The type of man who gets what he wants, the type she tried to avoid during grade school. Who was she to reject his kindness of buying her a drink? In some way, she felt inferior to him and she was not completely sure if she liked that yet but this came along with the pleasures of losing control. He desired it and she was all too willing to give it. 

Hagrid placed her morning sky gradient drink down before her with a slick black straw and placed a simple jade green bottle before him with the cap popped off, now wiping the countertop with a dirty off-white rectangular rag adorning small holes. The girl glanced at the unknown cocktail, watching the small sweet cherry swirl around at the top of her glass in the liquid. 

"I'm glad to have you back safe and sound, Mr. Riddle. Pub's missed ya, Sir." Hagrid spoke in his grumbly voice, wringing his hands as if he was anxious. Tom could make a grown man.. nervous? To this, Hermione's eyebrows raised as she took note of the small detail. Not to mention, Hagrid had suddenly acted and spoke properly like as if speaking to a boss or manager. Did Tom work here? Where did he come back from? Possibly a holiday? Her brain fired questions every second at the awkward yet tense power exchange all the while Tom watched Hagrid squirm under his calm gaze. 

"I'm sure you are." That was all Tom said, no kindness or respect dripping from his voice as there was with her. All that was left was a crude and authoritative manner. In addition to his response, Tom simply starred with a heavy presence as Hagrid nodded to affirm his own words, shifting his gaze constantly between Tom and the floor, before leaving within an instant. Tom dismissed him silently. _Dismissed_ , that was the proper word for it, _like royalty_. This shocked the girl without restriction, glancing between Hagrid and Tom with an open gaping mouth as if to silently comment on their unspoken relationship. They must know of each other in some sort of illicit manner, Hermione could feel it. 

"I hope you find the drink to your liking? I thought sticking to tequila was a safe bet since you're already drinking it." Now he's being polite again? At the sudden shift in energy, Hermione shut her mouth quickly as Tom turned to her - once again with a gentleman smile. Wait a minute, how did he know what she was drinking? "If not, I can always get you something else." His bright eyes watched her like a hawk and Hermione pretended as though nothing had just happened, matching his kind smile. 

"No, it's perfect. Thank you." Hermione replied gently, glancing down at the medium-sized glass before taking the straw between her fingertips and swirling the liquid. "I'll admit though, I've never had one before." 

"Well, take a sip." Hermione obeyed silently, brining the glass up to her and guiding the straw with her other hand to her lips. With one smooth sip, the liquid cascaded down her throat easily that masked the bitter alcohol. Tastes of orange juice and a sweet indescribable flavour tickled her tastebuds. Nearly as dangerous as the man in front of her, the girl enjoyed the drink surprisingly and found herself thinking of how easy it was to drink with the amount of alcohol in it. Easy and dangerous. 

"It's really good. I think it just might be my favourite." Hermione admitted as Tom's smile grew, watching smoothly as she took another sip. Unknowingly and improperly, a small droplet of her drink trailed from the corner of her mouth to the side of her plump lips. Ready to lick it off, Tom's hand reached up just as she put the glass down. Gently grasping and cupping her small chin, Tom let the rough pad of his thumb trace the outline of her rose lips from side to side seductively slow, wiping the droplet away. Her mouth opened just the slightest, as if to open willingly for his thumb. Her soft lip followed his movements gracefully, submitting to his crashing wave without hesitation. Meanwhile, Hermione's eyes widened before starring directly at the older man. Such a smooth and lustful gesture, it made the girl become all warm and fuzzy inside unlike ever before. Her heart thumped as her breath fluttered, watching Tom's smirk arrive as his hand lingered on her face before falling to his side. He most certainly had an affect over her and her youthful body, experiencing a new sort of temptation - lust. From one small action, she managed to crave the man like a dirty little sin all the while he acted calm and collected, proceeding as if nothing had happened. The moment was _dismissed_. 

"How old are you, Hermione?" Tom asked now, changing the subject back as he took a swig of his beer. The blushing girl watched his movements carefully, feeling her mind drip into a swaying haze much like palm trees in a Hawaiian breeze. 

"Nineteen," She answered, watching for a reaction when there was none. "Does that bother you, Tom?" He smiled coyly at her repetition. 

"Not in the slightest." His response made the girl quiver in all the wrong places. Nibbling on her lower lip, Hermione caught herself once again in a small pause of silence as the two stared at each other. In another wave of small panic, Hermione asked another question that pegged her mind. 

"Do you work here?" She spoke politely, thinking back to the tense moment between Hagrid and Tom. "If I may ask?" The man before her raised his eyebrow curiously at the odd question as Hermione stumbled over her words once again. Nonetheless, he seemed pleased. Not at the fact that she was continuing the conversation, but at the fact that she  _asked_ if she could continue. She was already unknowingly perfect to Tom in an innocent kind of way, and he already craved her more than he was letting on. "Hagrid said that he was glad you came back. I assumed you must have of worked here." She supported her question with that statement, watching him take a moment to answer.

"I do not work here specifically, but my work does travel through here." That was all he cryptically answered, and he left her with more questions. 

"What do you do for work then?" She asked once more, taking another sip of the delicious cocktail as she glanced over his calm stature. 

"I'm a businessman." A businessman? How would business work travel through a small and unpopular pub? Hermione's thoughts trailed on as she spiralled down a string of collective ideas all centred around him. Maybe he owned the pub? That could explain for the exchange between Tom and Hagrid. But then if so, why not mention it? Most businessmen boasted about their materialistic objects, or so she had experienced in the past. However, Tom did not seem like the type to boast. Her mind was in a mixture of a calmness and caution, both curious yet careful. No doubt the tequila was beginning to hit her harder than expected as she felt her lips became numb and cheeks flushed. She should have stopped drinking after that second shot, especially for being a lightweight, but yet she continued on drinking the cocktail Tom ordered her. 

"What about yourself, Hermione? What do you do for work?" Tom asked right back as he turned to face her completely on the bar stool. 

"Well, I'm mainly a student at Hogwarts University, but I do work occasionally at my parents' dental office as a receptionist whenever my mother says she needs extra staff." She replied honestly, letting more slip than what she would have normally stated. To this, Tom's devilish smirk returned. 

"What a good girl you are helping out your parents." His words, certainly alluring and seductive, made the girl quiver with an unknown passion and become turned on ever so gently. Under the daze of rock n roll music, mellow lights, and hazing tequila, Hermione couldn't explain why his lustrous voice left her soaking in another sense - she was an innocent, corrupted mess. Tom noticed a soft gasping noise that slipped unknowingly from her rose lips, and it assured him with her wide eyes that his effect on her was greatly received. For he now knew the perfect words to say in order to leave her in a wanting, panting, and blubbering mess for him. 

"I suppose so." She agreed gently, pushing a strand of curly hair behind her ear as she let her eyes fall down to her half drank glass. Had she really drank that much so quickly? Tom was only a few swigs in. Suddenly, out of a surprising movement, Tom reached down to grab the edge of her seat and turned it as gracefully as he could, making her turn to face him fully as he was. The girl straightened her back, coming to her fill length which still caused her to look up to him. Out of a moment of vulnerability, Hermione matched his minimal smile with a bashful blush. At this point she could not tell if her red cheeks were due to him or the alcohol. 

"There, now I can see your beautiful face properly, love." The nickname hit her harder than normal. When Ron use to call her love, the girl would become annoyed by his feeble romantic attempt to be cute, but with Tom, it drove her mind and her body mad with a bite to her lower lip. She now realized how close the two were sitting, he must have pulled her chair or his closer. He was the type to get what he wanted, he takes without question. Tom paused for a moment, scanning her face before continuing. "Tell me more about your long day, Hermione." 

He was not asking. 

Fumbling with her fingers that now fell to her lap again, Hermione nodded. "Well, I woke up late which I never do. I slept through my alarm and was up all last night studying for a test I had today in my biology lab. Not to mention I got a lovely text from my," She paused for a moment with a hard swallow, almost letting the word boyfriend slip. "My now ex boyfriend about wanting to talk. I rushed out of the house, forgetting my phone like an idiot. I was late to class by five minutes, which I never am, and barely was allowed to write the test. I felt horrible after writing it because I knew I haven't done as well as I normally do. Then I went to talk to Ron, my boyfriend at the time, who told me I was 'too focused on school' and not 'giving him what he needed'. So, he broke up with me after being together since the beginning of secondary school. Then, crying and upset, I decided to finish the rest of my classes for the day, which was a bad decision on my part because I couldn't focus at all so my notes were horrible. I tried to drive home at the end of the day but my car wouldn't start and I forgot my phone so I had no one to call for help - all the while it started to pour outside. So, I decided to walk home crying, which took about an hour, and I still have another couple of blocks before I get to my neighbourhood. After all of that, I saw this pub and decided I needed a drink." There, she spewed out her horrible day all the while Tom fully listened patiently with a few head nods here and there. "I'm behind a few of my classes due to being stressed all the time and I haven't slept properly in over a week. I just haven't been myself recently..." She admitted shamefully, looking down at her fingers like a kicked puppy and held back her tears that threatened to spill. Tequila definitely made her talk, that's for sure. Tom probably thought she was overreacting like the teenager she was, she thought crudely to herself. 

Surprisingly, Tom reached out and a placed a much larger hand on top of her small frail ones gently. His warmth enveloped her cold fingers instantly, making the girl look up to meet his caring and comforting gaze. 

"You are doing the best you can, Hermione. University is not easy and neither is it with a pile of stress on your shoulders. Not much help is it either with a boy who doesn't know how to properly take care of the woman you are." He answered with a mixture of comfort and ease, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hands smoothly. Hermione was stuck in his eyes, transfixed by the words that have never been said to her. "You're the kind of woman who needs a man, not a boy, aren't you, Hermione?" 

She never needed a man ever, but in her moment of vulnerability under his demanding gaze, she shrugged her shoulders shyly. 

"Why do you feel as though you haven't been yourself recently, love?" He asked while she raised a curious eyebrow. Why did he care so much to ask? 

She would never have admitted this out loud to a stranger, especially one that she just met, but her hazy mind and loose lips spoke before she could stop herself. "Well, last week was the anniversary of my father's death. He passed away in a car accident when I was thirteen and I miss him every day. When it gets around this time, I never feel like myself. For my eighteenth birthday, I got a tattoo for him." In their embrace, Hermione turned over her left wrist to reveal a small yet beautiful black and white fine line bird. A nightingale. Tom looked down with her to admire the small elegant tattoo, rubbing his thumb over it gently which made her shiver to his touch. 

"I'm sorry, Hermione. That's horrible... For any consolation, my father has passed away as well, both of my parents have. I understand how hard it can be to miss someone you were meant to see grow old, someone who is meant to be there for almost every moment of our lives." He paused for a moment as Hermione found comfort in his words and similar emotions, returning the favour to now hold his hand with her free one with a gentle squeeze. Holding his hand just felt right, for some odd reason. "The tattoo is beautiful, but why a bird?" 

"My father use to study birds in his free time. He loved them and he loved learning about them. He even built many bird houses in our backyard to see familiar birds come and go each morning, if he had the time." She took a moment to smile at the faint memories blasted with colour, remembering each time her father was wildly excited to show her a new bird in the backyard and explain its origins. "His favourite bird was a Nightingale only because he loved the sound of their song. They sing at night and he fell in love with their melody, not to mention his nickname for me was Nightingale. So now, to remind myself in the darkest nights, this tattoo means that Nightingales are out there singing their beautiful song and my father is most likely wherever they are, happy and in peace." She spoke softly, taking another fruitful glance at her tattoo before looking back up at Tom, seeing the admiration written all over his face.

"You, Hermione, truly are beautiful - inside and out." He responded, holding her hands in his and leaning a little closer. The girl flushed easily with a small laugh, finding herself flustered at just explaining her life story and being met with admiration. 

"You're too kind, Tom. I'm sure you are as well." She replied with pure kindness, sending him a soft smile that was met with a quick laugh. 

"Oh, my dear, you are too innocent for your own good." Tom's voice dripped with a sweet subtle seduction as his other hand reached up to brush away a few more strands of her curly hair, only tot tuck it behind her ear. He left his hand to linger on her cheek as the tip of his index finger traced the outline of her ear, leaving the girl a shy mess. "So polite, so sweet, so innocent. So perfect. Where have you been hiding from me, my little Hermione?" 

For once in her life, she did not know how to answer. Tom took her silence and doe eyes with a smirk as his hand trailed down from her cheek to her chin once more, tugging her head ever so gently to fully look up to him. 

"How good of a girl are you really though, love?" To that question, she was confused. It must have been written all over her face because Tom released a handsome chuckle when the girl replied.

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, how much of a good girl are you, Hermione? Are you wanting the night to end with me driving you home, or would you rather I drive you to my place?" Suddenly, the girl was burning all over with a desperate sensation of desiring a release. The kind of release a girl never truly spoke of but eyes revealed in a sensual way. Her body alit a flame of temptation, just throbbing to be touched and pleased in ways she never has before. Whether it was her conscious mind guiding her or the alcohol, she most certainly wanted this in every aspect. Needed this, perhaps they both did. However, she was normally never the type of girl to sleep with someone for a one night stand. Ron was all she has ever done anything remotely sexual with, and even then so it was not that pleasurable. Suddenly feeling inexperienced and shy, Hermione let out a small whimper mixed with a laugh, bashfully looking down at their fingers. However, it was Tom's hand grasping her chin that pulled her face back up to his - right where he wanted her. 

"There's no need to be shy, love. Let me take proper care of you tonight. Let me show you how much you are valued and how you deserve to be treated like the beautiful, smart woman you are." His words sounded like a daydream, one she could have only hoped to experience outside of an illicit romance novel. This devilish longing, her throbbing dripping wet insides, and sinful mind wanted nothing more than what Tom described. The man leaned a little closer to her, glancing all over her flushed face before settling on her honey eyes once again. "I promise to take better care of you than any man ever could, make you cum harder than man ever could, and relieve that stress. I'll show you how good girls get rewarded in every way possible, if you'll let me. I'll show you just how good it feels to lose control, Hermione." 

Again, she was transfixed. Caught between a heated moment and thirsting lust - she decided she wanted him. And she wanted him _bad_. 

"I need to hear you say it, love." Tom's hand on her chin gripped her a little tighter, slowly tugging her face a few inches closer to him. "Tell me how bad you want it."

It did not take much for her to say the words he required. 

"I want you, Tom... Please." As simple as that was, the 'please' pushed Tom over the edge. Such an innocent word that made her mouth so damn pretty. He knew she needed some training, and he would be the perfect teacher for her. The two starred at each other like lovers captured between crumpled bed sheets and sweaty skin, wanting to grab as much as they possibly could all the while diving deeper in the ocean of lust. Hermione watched as Tom's smirk grew just as their noses grazed each other. So close and yet so far. 

"Good girl." His words brought a sense of completion within her, as if she was meant to do what she was told and got rewarded by _praise_. She liked it, she shamefully admitted to herself in a quiet voice, she liked being called a good girl. And she wanted to hear it drip from his mouth more often. "You follow instructions well, Hermione. I'd like to explore that more with you, hm?" 

Again, she was lost for words. Especially with his gaze dropping down to her precious mouth that was just a tad open, looking as those he wanted to kiss her hard and desperate. She was not so shy of the same conviction, she wanted him to devour her whole in that very moment. So close and yet so far.

"Would you like me to teach you how to be a good girl for me, Hermione?" Without even thinking, the girl spoke instantly - desperately. 

"Yes." That simply was not enough for him. 

"Yes what?" The girl was confused for a second before responding. 

"Yes please, Tom." His hand gripped her chin even harder, just enough to inflict the right kind of pressuring pain to make the girl whimper once more. 

" _Yes please, Sir._ Say it properly." He reiterated with a strict tone, making sure she would understand. Hermione did not hesitate to use her words. 

"Yes please, Sir. I want you to teach me how to be a good girl for you." With that, Tom's smirk widened. She was absolutely, completely, and utterly perfect. 

"Good girl," He took one last glance around her face before letting her chin go and pulling away from her smoothly. "Then let's get going. I'll pay for your bill." 

On her way out, locked by a guiding larger hand that belonged to no one other than Tom, she sent Hagrid a small thankful smile on her way out only to be met with a saddened hard stare. She faltered in her steps, suddenly thrown off by the change in emotion from the bartender and Tom continued to tug her willingly to the exit. It was as if he felt sorry that she was going home with Tom, that she did not deserve it, and that, possibly, he nor this pub might never see the vibrant girl again. 

If Hermione were able to truly know how the rest of her life would be involving Tom Riddle, she would have ran as fast and as far as she possibly could. However, for the moment being, Tom was her everything and she wanted nothing more than to be a good girl for him - his good girl. 


	2. Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the lamb is lured into the lion's den. 
> 
> Or
> 
> 10k words of pure smut, you're welcome :)

_To say the girl was not completely turned on would be a horrible lie._

The moment Hermione rolled up in the passenger seat of Tom's Camaro to his house with his large hand cupping her left thigh as if her life depended on his touch, she definitely did not expect it to be incredibly lavish as it was. Windows adorning the main level walls, stone steps trailing up the driveway and leading to a large modern wooden front door with a snake door knocker, subtle lights, and a grand garage containing three expensive cars surely imported from all over the world. Money turned out to be no objectifying matter to Mr. Riddle, Hermione got the message loud and clear. Although she did not mind that he was secretly wealthy, she found it surprising simply because she was not expecting it. He seemed to dress middle-class for owning a house as such so she logically assumed he was financially stable, not completely rich. Tom had let her explore with a small tour of his grand home, simply leaning against each wall to admire her expressions of awe or standing close beside her to run a wandering hand down her spine that made the girl internally purr like a cat. He had decor at every corner of his house in immaculate condition. His home was free of dust, wide open, and interesting artwork hanging on nearly all the grand walls. Not mention the modern chandelier that lit up nearly the entire house for miles. A small part of the tipsy girl felt as though she was out of place, outside of her element and comfort zone. Nonetheless, due to her doing many things on this night she normally would never consider doing, like drinking until she was hazy and following a man home for the night, Hermione was experiencing emotions she never had before.  Good girl, Yes sir, My Hermione . It all drove her insanely mad with a lustrous craving to be touched and the slightest addition of fear for tossing her control in the demanding hands of someone else. Instead of backing out because of an innocent fear of the unknown, she let herself dive into the deep end and become engulfed into the lion's sweet seduction. He the lion and her, unfortunately, the lamb. 

"Your house... It's absolutely beautiful, Tom." The girl let out a small breathless laugh of astonishment, slow twirling on the tips of her toes to take it all in as the tour ended at the starting point - the foyer. Right atop the floating staircase with elegant planks of sturdy wood sticking out of the wall, each one disconnected and lonesome, lay a painting of a grand man surely from an older time. Mid nineteen hundreds, Hermione guessed logically. He held an intense gaze that seemed to stare directly into her soul, slicked back dark brown hair, piercing green eyes, and a pin straight suit with jade accents. Notably a large diamond-shaped black ring sat pristine and perfectly on his right hand. Hermione nearly felt as though Tom was staring directly back at her in the form of a painting, but only older. It somehow made the girl shiver with delight and fear at the same time.

"I don't normally share the privacy of my home with many people, so I'm glad you like it." Those few words stuck out to her like a sore thumb. All this money put into a house as beautiful as this one, and he was  reluctant  to share it? Someone had a sharing problem, Hermione thought to herself carefully, or maybe he was overly humble. Somehow, the girl guessed the second assumption was not the correct answer. "This use to be my parents home, Riddle Mansion. After their passing and once I was of age, I found out they had left everything to me in their will - including the house and their money." Tom spoke grandly, coming to stand beside the foot shorter girl and placed a warm hand on the small of her back comfortably. Unknowingly, the girl leaned into his warm embrace as he continued on. "After a few years of hating the outdated look, I rebuilt the house from scratch into something I desired. A more modern and comfortable feel, just the way I liked it." Hermione glanced up at him with a kind smile, nodding at his words before gesturing to the painting. 

"And who is the painting of? Your father?" She asked politely to which Tom responded with a gentle nod. 

"Yes. I felt as though there should be at least one thing I keep from the old house, and this is it. Well, this among a few other little things." Tom looked down at her as his voice slightly echoed through the large house. His penetrating curious gaze never once strayed from her frail form as Hermione took a thoughtful glance back at the grand painting - still internally shivering as the cold eyes stared directly back to her. If it were not for Tom's warm hand on the small of her back reminding her of reality, she could have sworn the painting slightly narrowed its gaze into a furious glare shot right directly at her. 

Suddenly, in her moment of bewilderment and dazed delusion staring at the grand painting, Hermione had almost forgotten the reason as to why she was here with him - to fuck an older man she had met less than two hours ago - and surely this realization was due to Tom's calculated movements. The man watched her as a predator would to its prey, coming to now fully stand flushed close behind her with both hands tightly grasping her small waist, his warm breath tickling the side of her head. Hermione could feel his entirety pushed up tight against her posterior, the top of her head simply reaching his clavicle as his eyes never once left her - just like his father's. Tom held her with a possessive touch, pulling her as close as he possibly could, with his arms now tightly wrapping themselves possessively around her body. He stood tall and dominating, framing her person entirely like the darkness of the night - completely, reaching every single corner, and without hesitation. Hermione felt captivated, captured, and called deeper within his arms as if there was no escaping. But for the moment being, she loved that feeling. Being trapped without a single way out under the watchful and demanding gaze of a man like Tom. She was the victim of the environment, a captive in his grasp, and for some reason Hermione found it to excite her trembling heat in a sinful taboo sort of way. All the while under his father's glare, nonetheless. 

"You know, Hermione," Tom authoritative voice promoted with the tips of his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, letting his voice drip into her mind in the form of a lustful whisper that demanded to be heard. "I've been told before that my father's painting makes guests feel as though they are being  _ watched _ ." One of his hands slowly came up to brush away her curls with a soft graze against her neck, grasping her hair with a small playful tug, making her head bend back to his will. With a tight yet gentle fist, his fingers wrapped around her fluffy hair, taking a few moments to run his large fingers through it before grabbing all of her hair in one slow and considerate sweep. Tom pulled on her hair with intention and coincidentally her head fell back unwillingly, the tip of her crown almost touched his shoulder as her chin pointed up at the painting. The girl’s tequila breath hitched, swirling with shock and sinful excitement. As if to silently surrender to his touch, the girl leaned more into his body just as her mouth opened with a soft whimper. Her hands struggled for something to grasp and ended up grasping his other arm that held her middle tightly like a serpent coiling around its dinner. She was not uncomfortable; she was just simply not in control.

"Do you feel like you're being watched, Darling?" His words made a delicate shiver travel up her spine, letting her skin crawl with a wave of uncertainty and desire crash between her legs. 

The younger girl simply did not know how to answer, tossed back and forth between submitting to an answer and desiring to stay silent. Her fingers gripped his arm a little tighter as her honey eyes gazed up to the wall in which Tom's father sat patiently upon with a judgemental flame in his jade eyes. The man seemed to glance right back to her; prompting her, daring her to answer the question with a spiteful grimace. Out of pure shyness, the girl slowly nodded to which the older man smirked. 

"Do you _enjoy_ being watched when I touch you like this, hm? I bet you do, my dirty little girl." Suddenly releasing her hair, his free hand now trailed softly down the length of her right arm. He reached her hand before moving to her navel, grazing his fingers up the length of her body to her clothed breasts. With an instant covetous need, Tom latched his much larger hand directly onto her delicate breast and began to hungrily knead the gentle flesh, all the while drifting a desperate groan into her ear. His voice sounded heavenly on its own, but with a moan? It was utterly music to her ears. Hermione's eyes seemed to shut slowly as her mouth opened wider, releasing a silent whimper as her hazy mind filled with a great amount of pleasure from the simplest touch. She fit so perfectly into the palm of his hand. Hermione let herself fall, becoming engulfed by this blissful seduction and succumbed to the dark path of temptation as her head now fell against his shoulder exhaustedly. All of her stress seemed to crash and wash away like a wave lapping the sand on a beach. Her legs suddenly felt as though she was a baby doe, struggling to walk and almost unable to hold her weight - if it were not for his arm holding her in place. Tom's head dipped into her bare neck as he let his lips graze one of the few sensitive places on her maiden body, placing gentle kisses that made the girl simply quake from how sensitive she became to his touch. He loved it, Tom thought to himself, he loved how she reacted to his touch and he needed more of it.

"Open your eyes, Hermione. I want you to feel exposed under my father's gaze, vulnerable, and unable to do a single thing about it. Would you like that?"

Again, she did not know how to answer but Tom simply expected one out of her. Tightly pinching exactly where her ripe young nipple would be overtop her clothes, the girl jumped in his grasp as she could feel Tom smile crookedly into her neck, letting her gaze snap open and latch to the painting.

"Answer me, Hermione. Would you like to be watched? Be vulnerable all under my command?" 

"Yes." She breathed out quietly, only to be met with another pinch against her small nipple that was exceedingly more painful and forceful than the last pinch. He seemed to know exactly how to play with her body, how to make her sound, and how to touch her in all the right ways without an ounce of instructions. He knew how to play her like a fiddle, and she loved it, craved it. 

"Yes, what? I am not a man who enjoys repeating himself, Hermione." This time, his voice dropped an octave lower - a much darker and demanding sound that made her quiver.

"Yes, sir." Now Tom placed a few more kisses upon her neck, releasing her nipple from his pinch and continued to gently knead the flesh through her shirt and bra. 

"Good girl," Tom paused for a moment, taking one last thirsty grab at her breast before both of his arms dropped from her. A sudden chill fell over her small body as she slowly lifted her head from his shoulder as he took a small step back. It was so small she could still feel the warmth of his body radiate from him, however far enough that not a single part of his body touched her and every moment he was apart from her felt like utter agony. "Now, strip." 

Tom was not asking. 

In a quick moment of perplexity and confusion, the girl turned her head to glance behind her to the older man with a curious look on her face. Here? _Right here?_ In the middle of the foyer, with the outside walls of his house made of glass in which anyone walking by could easily peer into, and under the demeaning gaze of his father's painting? Tom stood completely still and let his gaze narrow into a deep glare, silently answering her question. He was not the kind of man to repeat himself, Hermione confirmed to herself, she now understood. Under the demanding pressure of silence and the sudden feeling of submission dawning on her, he awaited her movements like an anticipated chess game and she caved in. The younger girl slowly let her hands rest upon the edges of her jacket, letting it shimmy off of her shoulders and slip to the ground, her shirt coming next by pulling it slowly up and over her head. Her face burned with an unpleasant blush of embarrassment and her hands slightly trembled out of an insecure fear of being judged for her frail body, coming down to unbutton her jeans hesitantly. For some reason, she did not want to turn around to face him, nor did she want to be facing away. Out of shyness, Hermione stayed exactly where she was as she wiggled out of her jeans, letting them fall to the floor in a pool around her ankles. She stepped out of her shoes, slipped off her cotton socks, and kicked it all, including her jeans and shirt, to the side. Only left in her simple black bra and a mundane but cute thong, the girl wrapped her arms around her bare flat middle as her eyes slowly glanced back up at the painting in the raw silence. Always watching, never looking away - a judging witness. She nearly felt like an innocent virgin shaken with fear - the good kind of anticipating, playful, and sexually aching fear.

Tom would not make her get completely naked just yet until he, would he?

"All the way." He confirmed from behind her, unmoving. His demands seemed to fall naturally from his lips, as if he was born to be dominating - no please or thank you required.

He truly was trying to make her feel vulnerable. For a moment, she wondered why she even agreed to this but simply a greedy voice in the back of her mind exclaimed how much she needed this release. Hermione and her rosy cheeks quivered from lust and slight fear, working herself up the courage to remove her bra and then, eventually, her panties and Tom never rushed her for a single second. With the help of the alcohol in her system, it seemed a little easier than what she expected. Now completely bare, the girl dropped her gaze from the painting to the small pile of her clothing on the floor. No matter where she looked, Hermione just knew both Tom and his father's gaze trailed her naked body, admiring her sweet and innocent allure. She would admit: she did not have a perfect body. She was not as curvaceous as she desired to be, she did not have the most plump bottom or biggest breasts, nor did she have perfect skin since certain parts ran with little lightning stretch marks - but that did not seem to be a problem with Tom. In fact, he thought she was utterly perfect the way she naturally was.

"You are truly beautiful, Hermione." Tom reassured, now coming back to being fully flushed against her naked body. He placed his large hands onto of hers that shielded away her tummy, grasping her hands and slowly pulling them away to rest by her sides. "There is no reason to be shy around me, is that understood?" 

"Yes, sir." She was smarter this time around, responding the way he wanted her to. Not to mention, she was completely flustered from his compliment. Tom's fingers now grazed against her warm skin with wondering fingers, coming up to gently graze along the sides of her smooth breasts. He was not shy nor impatient, he was taking his time with her body and knew all the perfect places to touch her - as if he was an expert. 

"Good girl." He responded as his voice came out certainly huskier and deeper, with just a touch of raspiness all the while his fingers gently rolled the tip of her flushed nipple. She admittedly liked the twitching slight pain it sparked within her breast. Out of a daze of emotions, Hermione bit down on her lower lip like the curious vixen she was and glanced down to admire the sight of Tom's hand on her breast. His other hand now rested themselves on her waist, grasping tightly before bringing her hips as close as he could to his groin. Knowing that only his pants and underwear were the only pieces of cloth keeping the two apart was agonizing, making the girl wetter by the second. "What do you think my father would say if he witnessed everything I am about to do to you, hm?" Those last few words made the girl shiver, finding it slightly weird that he constantly brought up his father. Did Tom have daddy issues? Being reminded of the eyes that watched her carefully in a sly way made Hermione glance back up to the painting with a grimace. Always watching every single moment, every sinful touch. He almost made it seem like his father was standing in the room in front of her young body, but even if that was true, no matter the amount of uncomfortable warning bells going off in her head, a small voice told her that she would have liked it. Instantaneously, the girl was both excited and afraid of what was about to happen - now truly understanding the reason as to why she was wet between her pink folds, rubbing her thighs together impatiently.

"Now, I want to go over some rules with you, Hermione. This way it allows proper pleasure and comfort for the both of us. Do you understand?" The girl nodded with a quiet response, encouraging him to continue on. Hermione had never been given 'rules' before when it came to her sexual escapades, but then again, she has only ever had sex with Ron. Suddenly, surprising the girl out of nowhere with a squeak, Tom's foot slipped between hers and dominantly nudged her feet far apart until it was almost unbearable - just right on the edge. Everything was left to be wide open, easily accessible, and visible. Hopefully Tom's father would not roll over in his grave at the sight, or so she hoped.

"Firstly, you will only address me as Sir or Daddy unless I tell you otherwise, and you will only speak when spoken to." So Tom did have daddy issues - it made the girl flush. The last time she had ever let out the word 'Daddy' was probably when she was a child, but even then she did not address her father as such, it was normally just dad. Nonetheless, a part of her felt turned on by it in a sinful taboo kind of way - naughty, so very wrong, but so very right. Now both hands came to each breast, fondling them as Hermione felt a mixture of being on cloud nine and being damned to hell, letting a gentle moan slip from her sweet lips. 

"What's my name, little girl?" 

"Daddy.." It nearly sounded strange coming out of her lips, but to Tom, it felt completely perfect in every which way. A smirk perked his lips as he released her soft breasts, now resting a hand firmly on the basis of her throat, tugging her head back once more to his shoulder. Slightly difficult to breathe, Hermione reached up and grasped his wrist instantly as he slowly squeezed ever so gently, never once cutting her oxygen off but just implementing the fear of doing so. Tom definitely loved to be in control, and he definitely loved to play around with her as if she was his personal doll. 

"Such a good girl for me, aren't you?" He began as Hermione unknowingly tried to regain stability instead of relying on his every move by closing her legs, his foot came right back and pushed her legs further apart with a deep growl. "Secondly, you will obey my every order. But if you can't, we use safe words. Use yellow for caution, letting me know you need to slow down or switch things around, and use red to instantly stop." Almost suddenly without giving her a moment to think, Tom's hand around her throat squeezed fast and hard - so much so the girl felt herself choke at the cut off of oxygen. Her eyes instantly widened as her mouth opened for any ounce of air, but there was nothing but croaking silence. "So, my Hermione, what do you say if it's too much for you to handle?"

Swatting at his wrist, scratching in a heap of panic, the girl could barely get a word out - but she managed. 

"Red. Red.." She croaked in drowned out desperation and Tom's grip instantly loosened, listening carefully as she took a huge deep breath in. Panting now, the girl shivered out of slight fear as Tom placed gentle kisses upon her ear, dipping down to her neck for a small playful nibble with a devious chuckle. 

"You are truly a perfect little whore for me, Hermione. I knew you were the right one the moment you stumbled into the bar; all alone, upset, a little lost, and inexperienced. See?" Tom flicked the tip of his wet tongue out against her bare neck, taking his sweet time with tasting her, making her eyes flutter. "All you needed was the right teacher for you and your pretty little body - not some boy who can barely handle you." He spoke softly, releasing the hand around her neck before coming to rest on her hips. "Third, you never get to cum without my permission or you will face the consequences. Any ounce of disobedience will result in a harsh punishment of my choosing, and I've been told I'm not the most gentle with my punishments. My dear, I want to make you beg for it."

Hermione's mind swirled with the endless amounts of punishing possibilities that often ended with her bawling her eyes out, just begging for it to end. Tom seemed like the kind of man who wanted her to crawl on her knees, kiss the floor he walked on, and beg for a release - forcing her to work for it rather than get off easy.

"For now, those should be easy enough to follow for a smart girl like you, hm?" Tom asked as Hermione could feel herself beginning to drip with utter excitement, nodding her head to his question.

"Yes, sir." 

It was almost strange to Hermione that within the span of two hours, she had fallen into the hands of someone she barely knew and give up her control entirely. And yet, the girl was beyond thrilled to be touched by the older man. It was something about his charm that seduced her, his experience complimenting his age, his dominant presence, and his unapologetic hands that drove the girl absolutely wild with lust and desire. She wanted him, and she wanted him badly. 

"Now, let's see just how wet my little girl is." Suddenly, his right hand dropped between her pried open legs and hooked two large fingers into her sopping wet young pussy that was trimmed recently. Without an ounce of hesitation or shyness, Tom ran his fingers slowly and smoothly through her thin and throbbing pink folds all the while Hermione felt her legs tremble out of desire. The simplest touch and she was putty in his hands. A hooked soft gasp left her lips as her honey eyes gazed down at his devilish hand, feeling her shoulders tense as he slowly rubbed the tips of his fingers around her ultra sensitive clit for added flare. With the painting looming over the two of them, Tom lifted his hand back up and stuck an eager finger into his mouth, letting out a groan of enjoyment as he tasted her juices. 

"Mmm, you taste heavenly, Hermione." Tom basked in the taste for a few dragged out moments. "Here," He now stuck both fingers right in front of her mouth, the one he sucked off and the other that glistened in the dim lighting with her wetness. "Taste yourself." 

Without hesitation, Hermione opened her lips gently as Tom slid both fingers deep within her mouth. A bittersweet taste infiltrated her tastebuds as her tongue swirled around his digits, making the girl softly moan as Tom seemingly fucked her mouth with his fingers by pumping them slowly in and out. A small gagging noise erupted from her throat as Tom pushed far back into her mouth, hitting the edge of her uvula but he never once pulled away in haste. He left her there to suffer for a few seconds more than she would have liked, but nonetheless with a smirk on his lips, he pulled back just right when she was on the edge of panicking. Tom then rubbed his drool ridden fingers all over her face to show another slice of his dominance.

"Look at you taking my fingers so well in your mouth." Tom whispered into her ear devilishly as one hand wrapped around her hair once again, tugging her head back all the way as the other hand with wet fingers gripped the base of her throat before he leaned down and placed a passionate kiss on her lips - the kind of kiss that would make any girl submit. Hermione felt herself melt into his body instinctively, drowning herself out into his warm and soothing lips. Tom kissed her like he meant it, like he wanted her to feel every ounce of love dripping from his lips as their tongues swirled together playfully while their lips mashed together perfectly. She was under his complete control, but he still treated her with the respect, the love, and the admiration she deserved. 

And just like that, their first kiss was over. Tom pulled back just enough for their lips to part but still stayed so very close that his nose almost brushed hers, and in that faint moment of lust, Tom shot her a devious smirk as his eyes gazed deep within hers. This would be the first time Hermione really looked at Tom and saw him for the handsome man he was up close and personal. He had the kind of face that should have been the president of a wealthy business company, the kind to tan easily as he travelled the world each year with his spare cash, and the kind to have a beautiful blonde trophy wife with three perfect kids- and yet here he was, fooling around with a broke college student. What made her so special? No one moved an inch and time seemed to slow down - all they had was each other and their aching desire. 

"Have you ever squirted before, Hermione?" The older man asked in the form of a luring whisper, gazing all over her petite face as Hermione shook her drunken head. 

"No, Daddy." 

"Well then prepare yourself, my dirty girl, cause I'm not going to hold back." The sudden passionate look on his face dropped within an instant and Hermione, for a split second, knew her innocence was no longer safe. "I'm going to make that cunt drenched, sore, and mine - whether you can handle it or not." His once soft and caring gaze turned dark within a millisecond. Suddenly, she became his in every way possible - now, and possibly, forever.

Tom kept a firm hand tightly on her hair, dragging her head back against his shoulder roughly as his other swiftly reached out and came down firmly to her soaking wet pussy. Almost abruptly, two fingers spread her lips easily apart and were shoved deep within her tight hole without an ounce of care, forcing the young girl to mewl out in the pleasuring pain. Tom did not hold back, driving his fingers deep and hard over and over into her slippery wet hole as Hermione screamed out of delight at his brutally fast pace. He was rough and harsh, unforgiving with his demanding pleasure, but it made her all the more wet for him. Her small hands quickly latched themselves onto his hardworking bicep as her body flung around out of control and Tom continued to harshly penetrate her body - just the way he liked it. 

"Look at you, a filthy whore getting fingered by an older man in front of his father's eyes. You're just begging for it at this point, love. You want to get ravished until you can't walk straight. You want your young pussy to be destroyed until all you crave is me. You want to feel the pleasure that only I can give you, isn't that right slut?"

Hermione quivered and shook with all of her might as her pussy sounded roughly with every rough pump, holding on for dear life as she cried out in ecstasy. Suddenly the hand that was holding her hair came down with a bruising smack against her breast, making the girl scream out from the sudden pain. 

"Fucking answer me!"

"Yes, Daddy! I only want the pleasure you can give me - oh, God!" Hermione's voice was loud and begging to be fingered harder, her hips desperately trying to fuck his fingers back but to no avail as he was speeding up by the second.

"Aw, are you trying to fuck yourself back on my fingers? Poor baby can't keep up, what a shame. I guess I'll just have to finger you harder then." And finger her harder he did just as another desperate scream drifting from her throat with lust. The girl had never felt such power before driving her absolutely mad as her pussy was roughly demolished with two simple fingers, hearing the sloshing wetness drip all over his hand and the pristine floor. She thought about how much she was surprisingly wet for him, however with Tom's fingers sending her among the stars, it was hard for her to think straight. Her legs nearly gave out but it was purely Tom holding up her up, letting her pussy juices drench his fingers as he could understand she was reasonably getting close. 

"Tell me how bad you need me, Hermione." 

In her blubbering, dripping, shaking, and drooling messy state, Hermione was quick to respond. "I need you so - uh! So bad, Daddy!" At this point, she would say or do anything for him to bring her to the brink. Ron had never made her build an orgasm this fast before - it drove her insane. Somehow she just knew it was Tom that could make her body do or feel whatever he wanted in a heartbeat simply because he knew how to work her body. He was experienced and surely talented with his fingers. 

Tom gripped her hair harder, pulling her head back further to force her to look up at him as she began to pant fast like a bitch in heat. "Tell me how I am the only one who can make you feel this good, baby girl." 

Hermione's eyes began to roll into the back of her head with the amount of pleasure infiltrating her pussy all at once, finding it hard to answer him. "You're the only one who can make me feel this fantastic, Daddy. No one else but you - oh, please don't stop! Please!" Tom latched his lips back on top of hers, giving her another phenomenal kiss beyond her years. His fingers never stopped fucking her for a second, always penetrating her harder by the minute. At this point, her small pussy began to ache from the hardcore friction roughly stretching her small hole, but she was lucky that her pussy was soaking wet or else this would have hurt a lot more. 

"You look so beautiful when you beg me not to stop, but I wonder how much prettier you would be if you begged me to stop." His sudden words made the girl gasp and open her eyes wide with shock, quickly feeling an odd emotion arise from her tummy. Tom continued on as if he had said nothing out of the ordinary. "Tell me how bad you need me to make you cum."

Hermione was now hesitant with her voice, glancing back and forth between the eyes of the painting and Tom's narrowed gaze. As much as she wanted to be freaked out by Tom's words, the girl was still getting pumped into like never before and she knew she was on the brink of cumming everywhere. Her mind, to say the least, was completely unfocused and scattered in every inch of desire. "I need you so badly, Sir. Only you can make me,  oh , cuummm! Uh, please!"

At this point, she barely knew what was coming out of her lips all the while Tom smirked at her blabbering mouth. He did that, he thought devilishly to himself, he made her a trembling blubbering mess and he loved it. 

"You know what to ask for if you need it, little girl." 

"Please, Daddy, I need to cum. Can I please - uh! Can I please cum, sir?" In the heat of the moment, every single word coming out from her mouth felt so utterly right as her orgasm continued to painfully yet blissfully build. 

Tom was silent for a moment, making the girl wonder what she said incorrectly, before he responded right into her ear. "Beg me to let you cum." 

Hermione mewled and quaked, holding tighter onto his bicep as her raw pussy began to throb for a release. "Please, Daddy, please let me cum. I need to cum so badly and you're the only one who can do it! Please, no one has ever made me feel this good before! Please make me cum, Daddy. Pretty please!" 

"Hermione, there's really only a few spots that can make a girl squirt - one being the g spot. And it should be right -" Hermione felt herself scream out in pure pleasure as he repeatedly thrashed his fingers into a certain spot on the topside of her vaginal walls. Finally, her desperate sweet release has come. "Here. Squirt for me, baby girl." As soon as Tom had said the words, Hermione was sent into pure ecstasy. Her body began to shake harder than ever before as her eyes rolled back into her head once more, feeling herself become entirely limp and simply succumb to Tom's dominating pleasure while she involuntarily twitched. The orgasmic wall of lust crashed down harder than it ever had before and she felt the utter rush of her pussy juices shoot out from her body, almost as if she was relieving herself.

Simply to add more pleasure, the hand that gripped her hair came down swiftly and began to quickly rub against her sensitive clit, making the girl scream out at the loudest pitch she possibly could. Tom never once stopped his rough fast pace, leaving both hands to work her cunt as if he would never stop. The girl was in pure heavenly agony, squirting over and over again with every pump of his fingers and circle around her clit, as if a huge release was left pent-up inside of her. At this point, poor Hermione felt herself stop breathing until Tom finally slowed down and halted his movements. Her legs still shook with every ounce of orgasmic trembles, feeling herself suck in a huge moaning breath before letting out a soft whimper. She was left in a small panting mess as she noticed a pool of her own squirt all over the floor, letting her face become flushed with embarrassment. Simultaneously, Tom let a proud crooked smile lift his lips as he brought his soaking wet fingers to his lips, sucking off her juices with a pleased groan. 

"Good girl, Hermione." In that very moment, his praise meant the entire world to her. 

There was a moment of peace, a moment of heavenly calmness as the two recollected themselves while the painting continued to glare at Hermione's shivering body. Gently, Tom grabbed her jaw and tilted her head back to his shoulder, forcing her to gaze up at him with her tired glance. Tom noticed her tired nature and puppy dog eyes that seemed to ask for returning the favour to him. He watched the younger girl pant for a few more seconds, trailing all over her blushing hot face, before his soft gaze turned for the worse. 

"No," Tom spoke with a deep authoritative voice as his gaze sent knives through her soul, "I'm not done with you yet." 

Suddenly, to Hermione's despair, Tom walked around to the front of the smaller girl and gracefully dropped down to his knees, not caring if he sat in her orgasm. Her eyes widened as the older man spread apart her thighs and roughly forced her pussy right up to his face, making the girl go onto the tips of her toes due to his height. Her hands reached down and tightly gripped onto his perfectly gelled hair as a form of support all the while Tom paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath to inhale the scent of her vagina before he harshly tugged her pussy right down onto his hungry mouth. His tongue dragged deeply up and down the sensitive wet outside of her pussy, sucking in both lips before ravishing her clit while keeping his dark eyes on her the entire time. Hermione released a long dragged out moan as her body continued to twitch in the aftermath of her previous orgasm, letting her head fall back as pleasure soared through her body once more. Tom became an animal with her pussy; twisting, pulling, sucking, and probing her body in every which way. He held her hips in place as she bucked all over his face, nonetheless mewling as his tongue shoved itself deep within her sopping wet pussy. 

This time, while getting perfectly eaten out, it did not take much for Hermione to build a second feverish orgasm. Every possible sound came rushing out of her mouth as the girl's legs began to shake once more, feeling her gaze switch between Tom's and his father's bashfully as her fingers curled further into Tom's hair. The addition of feeling watched made the girl all the more ready to cum again and Tom was not holding back with his starving mouth that ached for her cum. She switched between panting an exasperated breathe and crying out in all forms of pleasure. Holding herself up was harder than she thought it would be. 

"Daddy, can I please cum again? Pretty please?" All it took was for Tom to nod with a devilish look in his eyes, that never once strayed from Hermione for a second, for the poor girl to cum all over and into his perfect mouth. The girl became a choking mess once again, writhing herself all over his face as she shook with all the power she had. Tom swallowed every last drop of her sweet cum, lapping up her delicious pussy despite her shivering sensitivity. At this very point in time, Hermione was completely drained and in a peaceful orgasmic blissful state but something in the back of her mind argued that Tom still was not done with her. 

Tom gently released her hips, taking his last few licks at her throbbing swollen pussy before coming to stand at his full height that towered over her. He flashed her a crooked smirk with red raw lips that glistened with her juices as he then dipped his head down towards her, giving her a powerful kiss that lasted nothing more than a few seconds. The taste of herself on his lips made the girl moan into his mouth, panting for her breath once more as he released her. 

"What a dirty girl you are, Hermione, cumming twice for a man you barely know. Though, I did promise you that I could make you cum harder than any man ever could, didn't I?" Tom's lustful voice dripped into her ringing ears as he brought her into his caring embrace, wrapping one hand around her waist and letting the other cradle the back of her head, making her feel comforted after getting ravished. Hermione nodded as she rested her head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat match the speed of her own as he cuddled her close. She enjoyed this moment of softness, his moment of a lover's weakness to comfort. "But I'm not finished with you, aren't I, Darling? I haven't fully used you the way you need to be." Spoken in such a sinister way with a soft tone - how could that possibly be? To this Hermione painfully shook her head, already knowing the answer with a grimace as her lungs panted continuously for air. Besides, she was not even sure if Tom would take no for an answer. 

After letting Hermione have a moment to catch her breath, treating her body as fragile as he possibly could, Tom pulled away from the small girl as he bent down to scoop up all of her clothing and shoes before tucking them under his arm. With his free hand, he placed it on her lower back before guiding the slow girl towards the grand staircase. Somehow, she still felt the judgmental eyes of the painting follow her as if she was a whore in church. Here she was - butt naked, her orgasm dripping down the insides of her thighs, and under the arm of a man she met two hours ago. 

Boy, if her mother could see her right now, Hermione would be dead. 

"Come, my love. Let's go to my bedroom. Oh, don't worry about the mess. I'll clean it up tomorrow." 

The next thing she knew, after trying her best to avoid stepping in the puddle of her own orgasm, Hermione was guided into the lion's den. Pristine, immaculate, and with a touch of an airy feel, Tom had a large dark grey bed with properly folded white sheets and cozy dim lights hugging the walls. Besides a simple lounging chair in the corner and double doors leading out onto a balcony, his room was strangely bare. There was not a single decoration - no paintings, no art, and eerily, no photographs. 

Instead of spending time contemplating the bedroom in comparison with the lively feel of the rest of the house, Hermione quickly turned around to face the older man right behind her as he tossed her clothes to the chair without a single care. His gaze was heavily latched onto her blushing mouth raw from kissing, carefully observing as the girl silently begged for more pleasure with her bottom lip sucked greedily between her teeth. Tom was not the kind of man to let his baby girl wait.

"Get on your knees." 

Hermione did not need to be told twice, eagerly sliding down to her knees against the plush black carpet with her breath falling into a steady rhythm. Tom took a few more careful steps towards her body as Hermione's head slowly inclined back to be able to keep eye contact. The large bulge that swelled out from his pants was now easily visible to the horny girl and made her all the more excited for what was about to come. 

"Undo my belt." 

Without a moment of hesitation, her desperate fingers latched onto his leather belt and fumbled to unbuckle the clasp. Slowly tugging it free from his hips, Hermione failed to notice how suddenly close she was to his pelvis as the girl was mainly caught up with the task at hand. Tom wasted no time and snatched the belt from her fingers, glaring down heavily at Hermione as he tightly wrapped the belt around his one hand. 

"Unbutton my pants and pull out my cock." 

His voice was partly velvet and partly demonic, perfectly balancing both a sensual and dark nature within the manner of a few words - a master manipulator. She was about to give head to an older man nearly double her age, the thought gave her a throbbing chill. Hermione hesitated for a few seconds due to the inexperience to such a dominating sexual presence Tom was implementing, nibbling on that lower lip before following her instructions. She sent a small unsure glance up at the wicked looming gaze superior to her as her fingers graced the edge of his plain black boxers, waiting for a nod of approval and then letting her fingers slip underneath. Tom bit back a sudden hiss of pleasure by clenching his jaw as her gentle and warm fingers wrapped around the base of his long shaft, easing his cock out of his underwear with the most delicate movements he has ever felt before. As soon as his throbbing hard cock sprung up against his stomach with its freedom, Tom took notice of her widened eyes that watched his manhood nervously. 

Hermione was trying to figure out how he would fit inside of her mouth with a size that massive - let alone inside of her vagina.

"Rest your hands on the tops of your thighs. If you move them, you will be whipped with my belt against your bare ass as punishment and I will not be forgiving. Is that clear?" The thought of being whipped made her all the more nervous yet secretly turned on at the same time. 

"Yes, Daddy." Even her voice sounded mousey and careful, trying her best to glue her clammy hands to her thighs as instructed. In frozen moment as the young woman sat entirely still awaiting her next order, Tom let her suffer in silence and observed her small squirming moments with a pleased smirk. He let his hands come up and gently tuck her curls that managed to fall in front of her face behind her ears, resting his free palm on her burning red cheek before tilting her head up to lock eyes with him. She seemed to become more anxious as he unapologetically and shamelessly held her gaze, keeping her guessing for what he was about to say. 

"Tell me how much of a dirty whore you are and how badly you want my cock shoved down your throat." His voice was completely calm, it was his eyes that sunk a satanic desire deep within her bones. She could feel his dominance, smell his manly husk, and taste his controlling desire \- it made her all the more soaking wet for him. 

"I am the dirtiest whore for only you, Daddy. I've never been this way for any man ever, and I want to be your good little slut. I want your huge cock down my throat - pretty please." That had been the first time in her life she had ever called herself a slut, but in this moment, she loved it. 

"Tell me how badly you need me to teach you how to be a good girl." Tom's hands now tightened on her face as his cock leaked precum faster than he ever has before. 

"I want you to teach me how to be your good girl, please, Daddy. I want to be able to fully pleasure you, satisfy your every need. I'm begging you, please." 

Oh, she perfectly knew how to sweet talk him. 

Tom's gaze narrowed before his hand ripped away from her face, coming to rest by his side as a dark and primal growl left his lips. "Lick up my precum and spit it all over my cock. Use that as your lube." 

Finally basking in her moment of glory, Hermione shifted her body forward and opened her mouth wide before slowly dragging her full blushing tongue against the head of his penis. She would fully admit that she normally disliked giving oral; however with him, it felt like she was  rewarded  to do so. She treated it as a game of fun that she desperately competed to win, a tall scoop of ice cream on a cone she bought on a hot day that would calm her dehydrated throat, a deep-rooted motivation to show him all of her talents. Tom let a deep groan leave his hungry lips, locking his gaze directly on her youthful face the entire time she followed his instructions. Hermione balled up a bundle of saliva as his precum swirled flavourless within her mouth, carefully spitting it back out on the head. Her gaze slowly watched it trail down the rest of his cock, noticing how much his dick pulsated and desired to be sucked off. 

"You're doing such a good job, you filthy slut." His demeaning language made her all the more wet once more, causing the girl to squirm by rubbing her thighs together. "Lick your spit all around my cock. Get it as wet as you possibly can." 

Hermione placed her tongue within her saliva and dragged it all down the bottom of his throbbing cock, reaching his hanging balls before trailing back up. She started to flick her wet tongue all over him, drenching him entirely as she switched between fast paced flicks and slow licks everywhere. Ron always said he liked it when she did that, so maybe Tom would too. Soon enough Tom's hand slid onto the back of her head and roughly tugged her hair with a hard fist, harshly pulling her head back from his cock and forcing her to look up at him. 

"Open your mouth wide, love, cause I’m about to fuck your face - hard." 

The moment her mouth was open as far as she possibly could, Tom forced her head down on his aching cock. He was surprisingly slow at first, allowing her to get adjusted at every inch. Hermione heart thumped wildly in her chest as her lips stretched into a large circle, almost feeling nervous as she took more and more of him into her small mouth while his words replayed in her mind. Suddenly the tip of his hard cock touched the back of her mouth, knocking into her uvula as the girl's body twitched. The small sound of a gag erupted from Hermione's mouth and Tom paused his movements, quietly observing how well she had taken him so far. 

"Mmm, about half way. Not bad, but if you're going to be a good girl for me, you're going to have to take more than that, baby girl." Her gaze locked up with his as he left her impaled on his cock, trying her very best to calm down her strong impulses to gag and pull away while he left her in this position. "You want to be a good girl just for me, don't you? You'll take all of my cock down your throat, even if it makes you cry and puke because you _want_ to be my perfect good little girl. You would suffer for me, wouldn't you, my Hermione?"

A heavily muffled but obvious "Yes, Daddy" spilled all around his cock as Hermione tried to speak, becoming slightly anxious over his sinister words. Would she truly suffer or was he playing along into dominant sexual talk? She could not tell which way he intended that. Either way, Hermione read his eyes loud and clear, preparing herself for the worst. 

Tom pulled back on her hair and Hermione was brought back up to the tip of his cock, pausing for a moment to let her catch her breathe through her nose before pushing back down on his cock at a slightly faster pace. Only pushing her down half way, Tom repeated this motion many times with a build up in pace before he began to slowly take her down further each head bob. At times, Hermione would gag and cough around his hard cock as her stomach threatened to eject vomit and her hands anxiously twitched to grab his thighs to control the speed - but surprisingly, the girl never once threw up. Tom worked her mouth and, eventually, her throat perfectly to make her fully take his cock until her face was flush against his navel. Now is truly when Tom picked up the pace to a fast speed that he desired. Tossing the belt to his bed, Tom now placed both hands on the back of her head and began to slam her head down harshly onto his cock as his roughly jagged breathes bounced loudly off of the bedroom walls. With every hard thrust meeting her face and his cock banging deep within her throat, Hermione slobbered all over him and gagged more than she would have liked too. He only allowed for a few seconds for Hermione to desperately catch her breathe before fucking her face back down onto him, pounding roughing into her throat as his head shot back with the fullest amount of ecstasy pumping through his body. She made noises of muffled moans, choking clips of air, and disgustingly wet sloshes with every thrust of his cock as tears began to fall down her face. She was not purposely crying, it was simply more of a reflex. Tom growled and moaned with each flick of his hip, forcing her head down faster and faster with each second passing by. 

"Oh fuck yes - take every inch of me, you dirty bitch." Tom snapped his hips faster than she could handle, feeling more tears gloss up Hermione's eyes as she tried her very best to hang on. "You know your place, don't you? Always such a good fucking whore. Daddy's fucking your throat the way it deserves to be \- used and abused." 

Tom forced her head down as much as he possibly could, even taking a few moments to pause with his full length down her throat as her body convulsed violently to breathe. Suddenly taking one large thrust that literally bucked Hermione off of his pulsating wet cock and knocking her to the ground. The young girl panted for air, feeling her swollen mouth take a heavy swallow as her throat became sore from the rough fucking it experienced. Her honey eyes watched Tom the entire time as he quickly marched over to her hungrily, grasping her tightly underneath her elbows before bringing the girl up to her feet. He suddenly shoved her mercilessly onto his bed, watching her body fling with a dark gaze as Hermione gasped in a genuinely shocked nature.

Slowly, the lion stalked closer to the lamb. 

"You truly are a good girl for me, Hermione. And even through all of that, you still didn't move your hands and nearly made me cum down your throat. Normally I would have loved to cum into your mouth and make you swallow every last drop, but I'm saving my cum for that tight little pussy of yours." Tom spoke in his deep authoritative voice, now coming between her opened legs and tightly grasping onto her hips with his large hands. He roughly pulled her hips down with a bruising grip to the edge of the bed, pulling her dripping wet pussy flush against his pulsating cock, making the younger girl whimper timidly. "You deserve a reward for being such a good girl, don't you, love?" 

Hermione struggled to answer as her mind was contemplating if he was going to put on a condom or not. Luckily she was on birth control, but even then it's not one hundred percent preventable against pregnancy. The very last thing she needed right now was a baby - that is for sure. Thankfully, Tom was not expecting a reply out of the girl. 

"Spread your legs as far as you can, baby girl." 

That was the last thing Tom had said to her guiding her legs far apart before lining up the head of his cock to her glistening wet pussy, slowly thrusting the head of his penis into her warm pink vaginal hole. Hermione's mouth turned into a circle with a small whimper leaving her lips, feeling herself being stretched inside. A little painfully at first considering Ron was not nearly as big, Tom used his free hand to gently rub a little against her swollen clit to drown on the pain and then shoved the rest of himself inside of her with one massive thrust. Her eyes bulged out of her head as a loud scream exited her mouth, desperately trying to grab onto something as Tom's hands made up her mind for her and held her wrists down above her head. Next thing the girl knew, she was being fucked like a crazed bronco - never for a second holding back. The bed slammed into the wall with a harsh rhythm as Hermione's body bounced roughly back and forth from his vicious pounding. The girl could barely keep her eyes open as every time her pussy was filled to the brim and the tip of his unforgiving cock roughly smashed against her cervix. Tom was caught between a battle of watching her face reveal her pure ecstasy to his hysterical thrusting, her gorgeous breasts bouncing with all of their might, and her navel bulging each time his cock filled her completely full. He growled more and more at the sight of his younger baby withering and screaming out his name, shoving her continuously into the bed. Tom was sure to orgasm in no time, however he always preferred to orgasm alongside his partner.

"How good does it feel to have Daddy's cock fucking you so hard until you see stars, Hermione?" Tom's voice barely reached her ears as the girl could not stop screaming out from pure pleasure. 

"Oh so - ah! So fucking good, Sir! Please - nuhhh!" At this point, the poor girl did not even truly know what she was practically begging for. She had never felt so completely full in her entire life and rode along the edge of sensual satisfaction. It was truly a mind-blowing experience. Her body began to shake and quiver with pure lust to Tom's unforgiving pounding, fucking her harder by the second.

"Tell me how badly you want to cum all over my cock." Tom demanded as he used his free hand to slip between their hardcore fucking bodies, letting his thumb mercilessly rub against her sensitive clit. To that, Hermione screamed out in more erotic insanity and failed to answer Tom's question which ended up with a smack against her bouncing breasts. 

"Answer me, Hermione. Now!" With that, Tom rubbed her clit even faster and pounded deep within her pussy to drive her crazy.

"Yes! Oh yes please! Please, I want to cum! I want to cum so bad all over you! Please, Daddy, please!" Her words were rushing out of her lips as she screamed them without a care as to who heard - just the way Tom liked it. Her pussy felt entirely raw at this point and was ravished on the inside so well that it made Tom work harder, smashing more against her cervix by the second. Hermione truly looked perfect in this very moment to him; sweaty, stuffed with his cock, screaming out his name, and begging to cum all over his cock. Never had there been a more perfect submissive in his arms ever before. 

"Who does this tight little pussy belong to?" Tom was dragging out the pleasure she received just to shove her right to the edge. 

"My pussy belongs to you, uh, Daddy!" Hermione whimpered as she could hear the headboard smash into the wall as her own screaming sent a loud ringing into her ears.

"Say it again." 

"My pussy belongs to you, Daddy!"

"Again!"

"My pussy belongs to you, Daddy! Please - uhhh! Please Sir, can I cum? Please I need to cum so bad!" Hermione begged, pleading with all of her might as she felt her orgasm build faster than it ever has before. Tom panted and growled heavily as he continued to furiously rub her aching clit, letting his other hand free her wrist before coming down swiftly to grab her neck. He applied an even amount of pressure that still allowed her to breathe but she would mildly struggle for air. 

"Cum for me, baby girl." 

Those were the only words she needed to hear as the girl instantly went silent. Due to her orgasm having such a powerful control over her body, Hermione's voice halted her voice the very moment as it slammed through her body. She began to quiver and shake uncontrollably as her eyes rolled all the way to the back of her head, having a delayed scream leave her after the first few moments into her hard orgasm while her hands tightly grabbed onto the blanket. This sight alone made Tom's cock heavily twitch before he took one final deep pound into the younger girl with one large groan, feeling his hot thick cum burst out from his throbbing cock and into her warm vaginal canal.

The two took a moment to calm themselves down as Tom emptied himself all into her, slowly pulling out afterwards as Hermione whimpered from the motion. The girl finally let her tired eyes flutter open as she continued to lightly pant, letting her gaze connect with his as he shot her a warm crooked smile. Tom let a hand gently graze her cheek as a sort of praising gesture, bending down to place a few slow and soft kisses against her lips. 

"My good girl, you truly are beautiful. Good job, I'm proud of you." Placing a few more kisses onto her lips, Tom then fully pulled away. "One second, love." With that, the older man walked off to the connected bathroom to grab a small towel. Hermione laid motionless in the same position, staring up at the ceiling as if she were in pure bliss. She no longer was having the worst day of her life, this surely felt like one of the best days. It was utterly heaven on earth within Tom's bedroom. 

Tom came back with a small black towel in his hands, gently bringing it down to wipe off any remaining cum that dripped from her pussy. Afterwards, he cleaned himself off before tossing the towel into a nearby laundry bin. Crawling into bed, Tom gently tugged Hermione into his strong arms and pulled both a warm bed sheet and comforter overtop of their bodies, making sure Hermione was completely covered and enveloped within his arms protectively. With his arms wrapped securely around her middle as she nuzzled deep within his chest, Hermione felt herself sign in pure happiness and slowly let her eyes close. She felt safe, carefree - content. To this, Tom chuckled as he admired the girl. 

"Still having the worst day of your life?" 

Hermione could only giggle tiredly. 

"Nope, definitely not any more." Hermione felt a small smile perk her lips as she nuzzled closer into Tom's naked body, tangling her legs with his as he placed a soft kiss along her forehead. Taking a moment to pause as her eyes drifted open and up to meet his, sending him a grateful and kind smile. "Thank you, Tom." 

She did not know if she was thanking him for making her day - week - better or if it was for the mind-blowing sex. 

"Thank _you_ , love. Now get some sleep. I promise to be right here when you wake up." 

That was more than enough to send her into a realm of heavenly dreams and sweet bliss - a place where only she and Tom existed together. 

* * *

By the time Hermione awoke to the gentle sounds of birds chirping their beautiful sunrise tune and the sun gliding over the side of her face, it must have been later in the morning. The girl took a moment to let her body stretch with curling toes as she let out a small yawn. Her bright eyes slowly fluttered open to see herself gazing at double doors leading out to a balcony. Nearly forgetting where she was for a moment, Hermione blinked a few times as she gazed around her environment before all of the sweet memories came flooding back. The bar, the painting, the orgasms - good girl. Tom. That was a name she was never going to forget. Hermione glanced down as she felt a heavy weight against her sides that came around to her tummy, finding it was a muscular arm tightly bound around her waist. It was his arm, Tom's. The girl turned to gently look over her shoulder to find the peacefully sleeping face of Tom Riddle, watching carefully as the sun drifted golden across his face as he unconsciously tugged her closer to his chest. A small smile lifted her lips as she admired him silently, taking a few glances over his beautiful face. All because of this one man, Hermione had one of the best nights of her entire life and she surely would never forget it. Feeling a strong urge to relieve herself, the girl shot a quick glance to the bathroom door. 

Hopefully if she moved, he would not awaken. She did not want to disrupt his sleep. 

Hermione, ever so carefully, removed herself from Tom's arms before crawling her naked warm body out of the bed. She stood with a tall stretch, unembarrassed by her naked body in the sunlight before making her way over to the bathroom. Something was different inside of her and it felt entirely good. She could not keep the smile off of her face as her body felt completely relaxed and in peace - the power of a few orgasms, not being in control, and vulnerability. 

When she was done, Hermione flicked the remaining water off of her freshly washed hands as she stepped back out into the bedroom. Perfect, he was still asleep. Hermione, with a bright smile on her lips, completely stopped in her tracks as she saw the time on a digital alarm clock on his bedside table. 

11:57am?!

Panic instantly set into her body as she knew she had her first class of the day within thirty minutes, not realizing how late it truly was in the morning. Without her phone with her alarm set on it, she nearly forgot to wake up on time. Hermione's eyes quickly widened before she rushed over to her clothes on the lounging chair, pulling everything as fast as she possibly could. Tying her hair up into a loose high ponytail and trying her very best to slide on her socks without falling over, the girl quickly glanced back at Tom's sleeping figure as a sudden sadness filled her body, causing her to slowly stop her movements. 

Inside of her heart, she found herself entirely drawn to taking off all of her clothes and slipping back into bed with Tom. His arms felt safe and welcoming, something she had never felt before with a man. In a way, she felt strongly attached to him and she wanted to stay in this very moment forever. However, her head knew that what they had was a one night stand. No strings attached - _even though she felt a string_.  He even probably wanted her out of his house by now, as any guy normally would. She was not stupid. Her heart ached to be back in his arms and swallow up the temporary comfort he provided her alongside the unbelievable orgasms. He was the first thing in a long time to truly make her feel happy, and now she had to let him go. Hermione nibbled down on her lower lip, letting her eyes carefully glance all over Tom for one last time before grabbing her jacket and leaving his bedroom as quietly as she could. Gently shutting his door, the girl tiptoed her way down his grand stairs to the foyer - right where her squirt puddle still sat. Hermione cringed at the dried spot as she slowly slipped onto her sneakers, bending down to quickly do up her shoelaces. 

Suddenly, a loud pounding hit the front door. 

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound, letting her head shoot up as she finished tying her second shoe. The girl slowly came up to her full height, feeling slightly annoyed that she needed to leave but there was someone in her way. She decided she would wait the few minutes before the person at the door decided to leave, taking the time to slip on her jacket that oddly smelt of rain and Tom's cologne and grab her backpack that was left at the bottom of the staircase. 

Another ramming door knock sounded that boomed through the grand house and this time, it sounded urgent.

Multiple voices could be heard outside as Hermione gazed at the door wearily. Already annoyed with having to wait, the girl decided to simply answer the door. She did not have the time to be playing a waiting game - she would simply tell whoever it was to come back another time. Quickly walking over to the front door, she unlocked it before pulling the heavy door open to reveal three large men standing before her. Suddenly taken back at the sight of leather, muscles, and multiple tattoos, Hermione felt herself drop her annoyed look instantly as the platinum blonde before her locked eyes with her. He looked charming and to be around her age, maybe a few years older, and watched carefully as the man leaned against the side of the wall in a sensual manner as if to attract her. 

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise boys?" The two men behind the one who spoke chuckled, making Hermione feel instantly uncomfortable under their gazes. "Hiya, doll. By chance, is ol' Tommy boy home?" 

Hermione felt reluctant to answer, glancing between the men with a slightly frightened face that tried to look strong. Warning bells were going off inside of her mind that screamed these men were not nice. A gut feeling told her to lie. Out of pure arrogance and in a rush to leave, Hermione shut the door tighter around her body so that it was only herself exposed to the men in front of her.

"Unfortunately, he's not. He just left about an hour ago-" 

"On foot? All of his cars are in his garage." One of the men behind the blonde spoke harshly, sending her a deep glare as Hermione winced at his gruff voice. 

"Someone's not being nice. Weren't you taught it's not good to lie?" The other man behind the blonde spoke, dragging out the last word as he tilted his head at her. 

"C'mon, be a doll and let us in to have a peak around?" Caught in her lie with a pale look on her face, the blonde man roughly shoved a hand on the door and pushed it wide open, ripping it tightly from her grasp. Suddenly, all three men advanced and Hermione quickly took a few steps back out of slight shock and fear. It was concluded that these men were definitely not good and had other intentions with Tom, she must have just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Suddenly feeling bad for opening the door now, the two men instantly began to walk around the foyer as the blond watched her like a hawk. 

"Y'know, Tommy has never kept his whores overnight - let alone bring them back to his house." The blonde man spoke slowly and with intention, letting his gaze fall all over her smaller figure as Hermione tried swallowed the lump in her throat. "You, my dear, must be _special_." 

All of the sudden, a gun was shoved directly pointblank into her face by the blonde man, causing the girl the gasp and instantly throw her hands up out of fear. Her lower lip trembled instantly as her gaze narrowed in on the weapon, experiencing a true rippling fear writhe through her body. She had never seen a real gun before in her entire life, let alone have one be shoved into her face. 

"Oh, Tommmmyyyy! It's been a while, mate!" The blonde man shouted into the house as Hermione's body trembled out of fright, feeling all of the blood drain from her face as the gun was shoved further into her face. "The boss sends his regards in your return, courtesy of Draco Malfoy and a bullet through your fucking skull!" 


	3. Until It Wasn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom is not a mere businessman and chaos ensues.
> 
> Warning for some gore, violence, and death :(

_She had never given a second thought about how she would die - or at least not until her father's death._

Maybe a God above would grace her with his mercy and she would pass peacefully into the night during a lovely dream, or maybe she was bound for something more tragic in nature like an abrupt heart attack at a far too young age. She hoped that death would come swift and kindly, bundling her up warmly his arms and venturing off into the unknown as he comforted her weeping the entire way. Her expectation was to be an old woman with a lifetime of happiness within her forgetful yet compassionate mind. Possibly surrounded by her giggling grandchildren, a loving husband who she nagged at often, and a photo album with all of best moments in her life. 

However, the dangerous end of an unforgiving handgun that threatened the space between her eyes made her think otherwise. 

_She had never given a second thought about how she would die - or at least not until her father's death, not until this very moment._

"Well, look who finally decided to bless us with his presence. The Dark Lord has finally come back home, safe and sound!" The man, whom she gathered to be called Draco Malfoy, shouted up towards the top of the staircase in an unpleasant sour manner. The Dark Lord? Her mind swam in a steady stream of confused thoughts, finding the nickname to be odd and mischievous. Nonetheless Hermione felt her breath falter for the slightest second as she understood who now stood on the second floor and loomed over the bleak situation below. As much as she desperately desired to fling herself around to see his face as some sort of release from the overbearing fear filling her veins, Hermione felt completely stuck where she was - frozen under the daunting gun.

"Oh we've missed you terribly Tommy, haven't we, boys?" Draco continued on as his two thugs nodded in eager agreement, his voice seeping with pure sarcasm at every word. "Do tell us: how was federal prison? Surely five years locked up is plenty of time to become somebody's bitch."

_Prison?_

Hermione's eyes bugged out of her face as her mouth nearly dropped in utter shock. Tom just got out of federal prison? The thought sent the girl into a mild state of shock as she could barely keep her hands from shaking, feeling her body tense up as much as her body could. She just had sex with a _convicted felon_ , much less slept beside one. 

"Malfoy."

The deep and authoritative voice she had grown accustomed to over the night had boomed throughout the home with a sinister pinch rolling in, dropping a few octaves lower in accordance with his morning gruff voice. Tom dangerously spat the singular word out with such elegance that it nearly made a chill settle within the room, a double edged sword was bound to strike no matter which way it swung. Hermione cautiously observed Draco's facial reaction in anticipation of a hatred look but only to be met with a crazed smile. 

"I really hope you don't mind us dropping by unannounced," Draco paused as he turned his attention back to the trembling girl who desperately tried to blink away frightened tears from her baby doll eyes. Suddenly, with a controlled movement, the man took a step closer towards her and gently placed the gun underneath her chin to tilted her head up higher, causing the girl to unwillingly follow the motion as she locked eyes with the blonde man. The next thing she knew, the tip of the weapon gracefully nudged a small piece of her curly hair away from her face. "Little birdy here let us in with a bit of a struggle, said you weren't home. To my complete surprise, here you are, Tommy! Y'know, you should really teach your whores not to lie - it's not very welcoming to guests. Seemed to be in a bit of a rush to leave, didn't you, doll? You've got somewhere better to be?" Hermione kept as silent as she possibly could while the guilt of opening the front door clouded her mind. Tom probably hated her for doing so, much less still being in his home after last night. She watched on with a tightly closed mouth as Draco sent her a perverted wink before turning his gaze back up towards Tom and continued on.

"Listen, mate, I understand you must have a horrendously busy schedule now that you're out and free to do what you please, but I was instructed to pay you a little visit. I mean, how I could pass up such a great opportunity to have a chit chat with our gang's most infamous leader? Or, should I say, ex leader?" Malfoy dropped his smile into a playful pout as his goons chuckled mischievously, never once faulting in his movements to hold the gun steady in her face. As more time passed, Hermione could feel her unsettled and uncomfortable nerves swell within her stomach like a sickness. _Gang? Leader?_ This day could not be any better, Hermione thought grimly. She had a large suspicion that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, especially for being an outsider to this entire situation that she had no business hearing about. "Oh, where are my manners! You probably don't know what's happened since you were taken away in the back of a police car, isn't that right Tommy? Well allow me to give you a little update: Since you've been locked away, your position was taken by the very person who should have been our leader from the start - my father. We've changed some things over the years to correct what was initially holding the gang back. We're stronger now with more numbers; better guns, better trade deals, better cock hungry prostitutes, and better money flowing through with more business agreements. However, I'm sure you could guess my father's number one policy that he implemented - no loose ends." 

Hermione was as still as she possibly could be, watching on with a dreary look as she carefully listened to the heavy footsteps walking down the staircase. 

"Oh don't give me that fucking look. You're not stupid - you knew very well that the multiple attempts to end your life in prison were from our men and weren't simply because you're a pretty man or you 'dropped the soap'. My father sees you as a loose end after that whole murder-fest shenanigans and I think it was only expected after that stunt you pulled, dragging _The Death Eaters_ name right through the mud, snitch. It took us years to clean up your mess, Riddle, and there were too many men willing to gut out your intestines with a plastic knife or to hang you with your own bed sheets."

Hermione shivered as the name was spoken loud and proud, recognizing the familiar gang from the many times they were uttered on the television or on the radio. It was always a series of brutal murders or illegal affairs. The Death Eaters, one of the most dangerous gangs in all of the continent, it now made sense. Tom was not lying when he said he was a businessman, but that is not all he is. He is powerful, wealthy, dominant, and unapologetic all because he is a gangster. The very thought of sleeping alongside a murderer made the girl feel weak in her knees and uneasy, curling her fingers into tight fists as a small movement of self comfort. 

"And yet, here I stand." Tom's voice dripped with poison, as if to taunt Draco in the fewest amount of words. "I'm disappointed that you thought you could get rid of me so easily, but then again, rash thinking is trait that runs through Malfoy blood. I would expect nothing less from Lucius's pathetic and useless psychopathic son." 

The silence was deafening and tensions crescendo within a matter of seconds. Draco was no longer smiling, instead hastily waving the gun towards Tom as Hermione released a desperate breath after the relieved immediate stressor deviated from her face. 

"Me? Useless? Say that to the gang leader who wound up in jail after abandoning his entire crew, murdering a whole bunch of men for no fucking reason, and blaming it on everyone else but yourself! You're the fucking useless and pathetic psychopath here - not me!" Draco was now beat red in the face as his voice screeched with pent up hatred, hooking his finger tighter around the trigger. 

It was evident that Tom was intelligent, knowing just the perfect words to blow Draco's blistering hot fuse. 

"There's always a reason to kill." Tom's simple and dark reply made the girl close her eyes tightly with a slight twitching cringe, feeling her shame rub itself deep within her shaken brain. She needed to leave. She needed to get out of this house as soon as she possibly could. She did not belong anywhere near these men, especially Tom Riddle. "Do you always believe _everything_ you're told, Malfoy?" 

"Draco," One of the henchmen spoke up prudently to which Draco's crazed wide eyes snapped over accordingly. "We haven't got the time for this..." 

The room became eerily silent as Hermione cautiously watched the blonde man slowly close his eyes, inhaling a deep breath loud enough for the neighbours to hear in. He seemed to be internally mediating, letting everyone else await for his denouement. After taking a moment to refresh, Draco let his eyes flash open dramatically and suddenly became the man he was, reverting back to his odd self with an insinuating smile and a relaxed demeanour, lazily tracking his gaze back to Tom. 

"Boss says it's better to clean up all loose ends, especially those that tend to fuck us over with filthy lies. What my father wants, my father gets. Bullet's got your name on it and everything. Sorry Tommy boy, it's nothing personal, it's all business." Draco paused for a frightful moment, dragging is attention back to her frail form that began to slowly cower. "Guess that makes you a loose end too, huh Doll? You've heard just a bit too much, I'm afraid." Hermione's blood ran cold, feeling her shrivelled up heart tremble and fall to its depths.

Hermione had always assumed she would do the right thing, that she would be brave and courageous like a superhero - and yet here she was, cowering out of fear. 

"What?" That was all she could manage to whimper out as a singular tear gently glided down the side of her rosy cheek. Was this how she was meant to die? 

"So who's up first - the Devil or the Devil's whore? Any volunteers? No? Well, that makes my job a little more exhausting but I guess I'll be the one to pick. Eenie, meenie, miney, moe." 

The pistol danced around the tip of her nose, nipping it's impending doom bluntly in front of her face. Draco's eyes flashed between hers and Tom's, as if awaiting for a final plea while taking aim. All Hermione could comprehend at the moment was how her throat felt swollen beyond belief, brutally choking on her own voice like the clumsy girl she admittedly was. What would she even want to say before metal lodged itself forcefully between the hemispheres in her brain? 

"Any last words for her, mate?" Draco humorously gestured towards Tom and in that sudden moment, Hermione silently pleaded for her life with the utmost amount of confidence that Tom would protect her. 

"Kill her if you want, she's nothing special to me - just another desperate whore begging to be fucked." 

And he dropped her - _just like that_. Tom let those very words gracefully drip from his lips and Hermione's heart shattered into a million pieces. Her mouth dropped open with a given shock, carelessly turning towards the second man she has ever shown her body to and eagerly searching for some sort of shame in his eyes, an ounce of regret, a fragment of guilt - anything. And yet, there was nothing. The swollen numbness of a deafening and ever so slowly daunting black hole. Just a belittling cold shoulder and a demeaning gaze starring right back deep into her shrivelled soul. She should have expected this, she thought to herself shamefully, she should have known a one night stand is nothing more than a quick fantasy with emotions locked away in an electric cage. Why would he have the compassion to save her when she meant little to him? She should have known Tom would easily toss her to the wolves like she was nothing but dinner served on a silver platter. 

In reality and all honesty, he did not owe her a single thing, including her life. She should have known there was not a thing to be expected. The poor girl was imagining something that was not even _feasible_.

Her body grew ice cold as her heart forgot to beat, letting herself drift away within a shallow numbness as Tom let his menacing gaze drift down her body unapologetically before glancing back at Draco. The blond man now released a heavy belly laugh, allowing the air to gobble up his tear-jerking laughter as he shook his head. 

"Oh there he is - The Dark fucking Lord himself! Not a single care in the world. Y'know, you're still the same heartless bastard I knew all those years ago. It's good to know things never change, Tommy boy. I love it, I fucking lov-" 

Suddenly, the ear shattering sound of a loud bang echoed throughout the foyer as Draco's words were cut short and the trembling girl jumped at the startling noise. It was a deliberate gun shot, and for a terrifying second, Hermione thought she was dead - until she quickly realized she was still very much alive and the gun shot did not come from Draco's gun at all. It came from one confidently held in Tom's right hand, a weapon secretly stashed away in the waist band of his pants, and the bullet planted itself right between Draco's bright eyes like a intricate dart striking a perfect twenty. The man quivered for a moment as the girl's eyes widened beyond belief, frozen completely still. He struggled to think, internally fought to even move a muscle willingly, but he was gone before he even hit the pristine floor. Irises widened to an unusual size, slowly rolled into the back of his head before letting the gun drop from his eerily relaxed fingers with a thick _clank_ against the floor. As soon as the bullet found its permanent residence in the brain and a thin trickle of blood began to trail down the middle of his face, Draco's body rocked back with a slam against the cool floor and Hermione felt herself slip against the confinements of time. 

Everything unravelled all at once while she was pinned against her own horrified will, stuck admits a heavy wave of shock as her eyes never dared to leave the dreadfully slow decaying face that paled in colour. 

She had never seen a dead body before, not even her father's. She could remember the adamant crying and childish begging she did, pleading with her mother to not see her father in the open wooden casket. She had been afraid that it would be on the surface of her mind for the rest of her days like a haunting dream, that she was too weak to even muster up the stomach to see the lifeless shell of her father and so, she refused to look. 

A few more gun shots rung through her high pitched squealing ears, one barely missed Tom's right ear as it painfully struck the carotid artery of another henchman's neck - a pitiful misfire. Blood gushed and spurted in odd bursts as the man gasped for air, clutching his neck with a beet red face while the other henchman found himself under the terrifying sight of an eerily calm Tom Riddle. Two bodies now clung to the floor lifelessly. Admits the daze of her petrified thoughts, the last henchman's face was bashed repeatedly against the side wall until the crack of a skull could be heard. Tom simply held the man up by a rough hand gripping the back of his hair, shining his bloody face in the dull sunlight. He was still alive, barely. Hermione's gaze, from what felt like she was starring heavily for a million years but was merely a few seconds, drifted between all three mangled bodies as a putrid whisper scraped the side of her ears. 

"You run back and tell Malfoy his only son died a brutal death by the hands of an innocent man, that his death is sweet and much deserved revenge. Tell him Draco's finally reunited with his whore of a mother in hell. _No one fucks with me_." It was no whisper directed at her but a crude shout, up close and personal, in the ear of a man with a busted face. Soon, his body was discarded to floor without an ounce of shame and the only thing left was the thick stench of metallic blood. 

_And then, there was two._

Hermione fought hard to keep herself from fainting or upchucking acidic bile, still chained to shock. She manually tried to keep herself from inhaling the scent of rancid blood with short nasal breathes but all she could focus on was the Devil himself and the rest seemed to slip away foolishly. With chapped lips and a clogged throat, the college student let her honey eyes settle on Tom's messy bed head and the few but distinct blood splatters against his cream coloured cheeks. Clad in only a pair of jeans, his bare shoulder's wildly bounced up and down from rugged breaths as he tilted his head in her direction. Hermione wanted nothing more than to become instantly invisible, but the world was not a wish granting fantasy. Tom leisurely turned his full attention on her now, coming to stand his full height as the gun weighed his hand down to the floor.

It was her turn now, his body silently communicated. _You've heard just a bit too much, I'm afraid._

Hermione was not stupid, nor was she entirely weak even though her feet felt glued to the floor and her stomach twisted in odd angles. She needed to leave. She needed to get out. She needed her escape before her body joined the pile on the floor. Her mind screamed in agony as her figure failed to compromise, an internal war of fight or flight. Tom gave her a smooth once over, checking for an ounce of harm, as he mentally decided to approach the frightened doe with the nearly perfect slow movements. 

"Darling.." Tom uttered softly from pursed lips, searching her eyes carefully as the girl struggled to think. Darling? What happened to desperate whore, she quietly mumbled in her thoughts. It must be a tactic, it must be a plot to get her to come crawling back in some form of little trust he imagined she would have left for him. Hermione was not stupid. She watched Tom like a hawk, wide and alert, silently begging for him to not come any closer. At this point, she practically begged for death to come sooner. 

In a daring and calm motion, Tom took one step closer towards the frail body - but she was already two steps ahead of him. As soon as she noticed his bare foot lift from the ground from across the room, Hermione bolted. 

She was out the front door as fast as she possibly could, leaving her bag behind without a single care as she sprinted down his walkway. Her lungs burned, her hands shook, and tears enveloped her vision - but she never stopped sprinting for a second as her life depended on it. In this very moment, she was glad she never told him where she lived. 

Half way home, the girl bent over a pure evergreen lawn on the side of the road to puke out the last of her remaining sanity. She never looked back once. 

* * *

It was very easy to lie to her mother as Hermione is a trustworthy child. She did not lie often and did not see the purpose in lying simply because the bond shared with her mother was the only true family relationship she had left, but when she did lie, her mother took the bait without question.

"Hermione Jean Granger, where were you last night? My God, I was worried that something happened to you! No text, no phone call-" 

"I was at Ginny's, mom. Remember? I told you last week that we had a chemistry project to finish and we planned a sleepover yesterday to get it done. And I would have answered your calls but my phone died, I forgot to bring my charger. I'm sorry for making you worry about me." 

"Oh... Yes, right. I must have forgotten with how busy the office is getting. It's alright, I'm just glad you're safe. Did you eat breakfast? You're looking a little pale today. I can quickly put on the kettle before I have to leave for my afternoon shift?" 

Her mother is a kind hearted yet constantly worried old soul. She enjoyed the small things like earl grey tea with honey, black and white films that made her cry, and her record player that constantly sung The Beatles as it was her favourite band. Her mother is always thoughtful with a sweet smile, considerate of others before herself, and stressed out from the tiniest of things. Her father was spectacular at keeping her mother grounded, but with him gone, she was often a mess. She used smoking as an unhealthy coping mechanism. Hermione constantly found hidden cigarette butts dabbed out in a crystal glass ashtray behind a backyard flower pot and she has known about this for years but did not mention anything to save her mother from extra anxiety or embarrassment. 

Continuing on throughout the dreadful week, Hermione was a numb vessel strolling through life without an ounce of relaxation. Her mind was clouded with the images of dead bodies, her hands twitched a little tremble from time to time, she was consuming more coffee then normal, and she did not get much sleep due to the fear of ending up right back in the Riddle house preparing to die. Not to mention Hermione often became an anxious wreck at the thought of Tom hunting her down like the gangster he was. Draco's voice often slipped into her ears at the oddest moments, nibbling away at her stomach with the same words repeatedly. _You've heard just a bit too much, I'm afraid._ She often found herself starring off into space for hours on end, dreading to leave the safe space that was her bed, tossing on whatever clothes were comfortable as she demanded her thoughts to disappear. But even when she connected with reality, when she was present listening to her professors or sitting with her friends during a free period for the past week, still she thought of Tom, morbid death, and the fear of hearing just a bit too much. It always made her shiver and feel the need to drown herself in the comforting sheets surrounding her bed. She just wanted to go back to normal, wipe her memory clean, and continue on. 

She was afraid to admit to herself what truly was going on - _she was traumatized_. 

Too deepen her fears even more, her backpack she had left by Tom's stairs was sitting patiently at her front door step one cool evening with a singular rose laying next to it. The sight made her freeze as half of her body climbed out of her car after a long day of classes. He found out where she lived. It must be a message of some kind - an inevitable sweet death. It was one thing to find her home, another to return her bag with everything inside exactly where it was, but it something else to give her a rose as the cherry on top. What if she had been home? What if her mother had come home early from work? Out of horror and complete pretending ignorance that nothing happened, Hermione immediately threw the rose out in the trash bin. 

That night, she cried herself to sleep. Her bed no longer felt like the safe space it use to be. 

"'Mione?" A familiar voice drifted into her ears as she studied in the university library, causing the girl to jump at the sudden sound out of instant fear. _You've heard just a bit too much, I'm afraid._ She quickly turned around in her seat to find the boy that broke her heart. 

"Ron?" She questioned quietly, trying to calm her thumping heart. 

"Thought I might find you here..." He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes shifted away from her figure. He would always do that if he was nervous or holding back something he wanted to say. Hermione felt the dire need to roll her eyes but instead composed herself properly. 

"Is there something you needed? I dropped off your hoodies with Ginny a few days ago, if that's what you wanted to know." 

"No, that's not why I wanted to talk to you. Thank you for giving those back, by the way." His voice trailed off and once again it was back to scratching his neck. The girl awaited patiently for him to continue but Ron seemed to drift off into his own thoughts. She has not talked with him in two weeks because of their breakup and now all of the sudden, she made him nervous? They had been best friends since the start of secondary school and he was never once nervous around her except for their first date. 

"If it's nothing serious Ron, I need to get back to studying for exams. You know, you can always text me."

"No, I know. I just..." His eyes finally searched within her own. For a split second, Hermione felt hopeful that he desired to get back together with her. She secretly craved comfort during these difficult times, someone to hold her through the long nights and tell her everything would be alright. That would mean everything to her. She desired the kind of comfort she knew Ron gave simply because they had grown accustomed to each other's bodies over the years, they both knew what the other liked and did not. He felt a potential safe space - until that second passed. "I've heard around that you're not doing so well. Ginny's worried about you, Neville's worried about you, I'm-... We're all worried about you, 'Mione. I wanted to make sure you were okay." 

Was she okay? Would she ever be okay? Those questions were hard to truthfully answer. She got a little drunk, slept with a man she barely knew, stood in a room with notorious gangsters, got a gun waved in her face, witnessed the brutal deaths of two men, nearly almost died a few times, escaped the hands of a murderer, and now she can't stop seeing the dead bodies on the surface of her thoughts or hearing the same voice in her mind while her hands shake a little worse every day - was she okay? 

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Thank you for checking up on me, I appreciate it." Hermione lied easily through her teeth, turning back around in her seat to avoid faltering in her facade. 

"C'mon Hermione, you don't need to lie to me. I know you're not okay, we all know you're not okay. Trust me, I know that when a girl says she's 'perfectly fine', it really means she's not fine at all." At the very moment, she was dwindling on her trust in men. Suddenly the seat beside her was pulled out and Ron plopped down right beside her, pulling it closer into her personal space. As she suspected, Hermione could feel her discomfort growing. "You know I'm always here for you. What happened to being honest and open with each other?" 

In response, the girl carefully narrowed her gaze down at the textbook in front of her. 

"A breakup, Ron. That's what happened." She could tell by his silence that her blunt comment and harsh recoil had stung him in the slightest way. 

"But what about being friends at least? Can we still be the same ol' pals as before?" 

"No." She quickly responded out of spite, still feeling sensitive to the subject of their breakup. At the sudden spring of another mind pounding headache coming on, Hermione continued with an exhausted sigh. She did not need this right now, she just wanted to be secluded. "Well, maybe, I don't know. Can you please leave me alone right now? I am trying to study and I would like some peace and quiet." At this point, her voice began to give away towards the sadness in her heart. 

"You know I'm always here for you, 'Mione. We can still talk about anything. If the breakup is hard for you, I'm here to listen. I-... I still care about you as a friend." 

Out of nowhere, Ron's large warm hand slipped on top of her own that clutched her mechanical pencil tightly, causing the girl to immediately look towards him. Her mind sprung back to Tom's hands around her throat, a larger and much warmer hand than Ron's that was dowsed in admiration and claim. She thought about how much she enjoyed the slight squeeze of dominating pleasure until the thought descended into a dream of murderous intentions. Her eyes would bug out of her head, hands would swat and grip at his own to tear them off, her face would burst with colour, lips would gape until her body became limp. The thought tremendously terrified her. She began to internally panic as she could feel her heart racing at an unhealthy pace, causing short puffs of breath as her temperature elevated. Hermione knew from the very moment this stressful state hit, experiencing this only once before, that she was having a panic attack. Out of almost instinct, the girl ripped her hand away and decided she had enough. She had enough of this day, enough of the people, enough of this crowded mind - she has had it and she needed to leave. Abruptly, Hermione stood up, ignoring the obnoxious squeak from her chair scraping against the ground, and quickly grabbed her backpack, shoving her textbook and notes into it rapidly. It was flowing towards her in a haunting wave of emotion, the trembling tears and the strenuous motions for air, and she would be damned if anyone at the university witnessed it. Grabbing her sweater and swinging the heavy backpack over her shoulder, Hermione immediately began to make her hasty exit. Maybe, she realized, she did not need comfort. In fact she would rather not be touched at all. 

"W-wait! Hermione!" 

She did not turn back for a second as a tear dripped down the side of her face, quickly wiping it away with the posterior portion of her wrist. Her heart thumped like an angry gorilla demanding to be let out of a cage and she tried to grasp control of her breathing - but nothing was working. The crashing feelings of being backed into a corner, enclosed within a tight dark space, and impending doom crawling closer with each moment devoured her whole. Her chest rose and fell at a quick pace, yet she could not catch her breath. She needed to leave. She needed to get out. She needed to run. _You've heard just a bit too much, I'm afraid._ Ron did not understand - no one did. Rushing down the main hall towards the front entrance where fresh air could be obtained, the girl felt as if everyone's eyes latched onto her like a leech to blood as she burst through the heavy doors. Ron was hot on her heels, calling her from down the hall before quickly catching up to her. She fumbled with finding her car keys and hardly paid any mind to where she was going, a bad mistake on her part. 

"Hermione! Wait up! I'm sorry!" In her moment of pure panic and anxiety, Ron grasped her bicep in a gentle grip to make her stop. The girl swung around to his face and instantly ripped her arm away from him with a frightened shout. 

"Don't! Just- just don't fucking touch me!" Her voice screamed out in pure agony for everyone near to hear, feeling herself become mentally confined within the walls of the Riddle mansion as she still struggled to breathe. She must have seemed crazy to an outsider. 

It all hit her at once now - the guilt for yelling in his face, the anger for being forced into this situation, the sadness for falling behind in school, the fear of being found by Tom, the panic of dying sooner than she was meant to. She felt everything and yet nothing admits her daunting numb hell of trauma. Hermione watched as Ron's face fell into a slightly shocked manner, letting his hand fall to his side. He now portrayed a kicked puppy and she felt all the more guilty. 

"I'm.." She paused for a moment, lowering her voice as more tears began to stream down her face. "I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to yell at you. I know you're just trying to help but.. Please," At this point, she began to beg in a soft broken whisper. "please just leave me alone."

With that, Hermione whipped around and was about to continue on her hasty journey to her car until a specific black Camaro pulled up to the front of the school. It made her entire body frozen within an instant as her eyes landed on its specific tinted windows. No, it was not him. It could not be... In that specific second, the world seemed to slow down until it was only him and her. The car steadily rolled by, the very same car she was in over two weeks ago thrilled, horny, and a little tipsy. She did not need to see inside of the car to know who was driving it - it was him. Her eyes widened to those of a deer caught in headlights and although it felt like hours had passed in a few short seconds, the car sped off into the distance as her head turned and watched it disappear. 

He was driving by her school now? _Stalker_ , her mind whimpered in a hushed tone. Was he following her? Or is she overthinking as the car could have belonged to anyone? Nothing was getting better as more roses turned up on her door step that evening, but the following week had been the worst of them all. 

With his name flashing all over news headlines in big bold letters, Ron Weasley was officially declared as missing. 

"Miss Granger?" 

Hermione was a walking skeleton - barely talking, lonely, drenched to the bone with depression, constantly looking over her shoulder, and wishing she could just sleep her life away into a blissful and forgiving nothingness. Ron's disappearance made her feel absolutely horrible as if she had caused it, raising her anxiety levels to the point of distraction. She could not sleep, could not eat, and could barely get a chance to think. Her mother had noticed her different nature, politely suggesting a possible vacation to see family on the country side for a weekend or to talk to a psychologist. Hermione, of course being the stubborn girl she was, said no. Running away would not help her tormented mind, nor would it bring back Ron if she talked through her emotions with a specialist. Besides, it would just give Tom more incentive to hunt her down if she opened her mouth about what happened. However, she already felt like she was being hunted as she could sense the Devil's eyes on her with every movement she made. 

She did not feel safe in her own skin. 

"Yes?" The girl gently whispered out, pausing her slow movements in the east hallway of the university. She turned to find an older but still fairly young man with raven hair and piercing blue eyes adorning thin rimmed glasses. He shot her a careful smile, straightening his simple red tie contrasting his professional suit. 

"I'm Detective Harry Potter and I'm working on the missing persons case of Ronald Weasley. I was wondering if you could spare a few moments of your time to talk?" The Detective flashed his badge to prove who he was but Hermione was too distracted by her thoughts. Ron's case was so serious that even the police were no longer involved, it was passed onto higher professionals. Maybe this was it - maybe she would finally spill what had happened over the past weeks and be sent to jail as an accomplice to murder. Lying to her mother was one thing, but how could she lie to a detective especially considering her ex boyfriend's life hung in the balance? Could she refuse to talk, or does that look suspicious? Her mind spiralled out of control but she looked collected on the surface. Hermione prayed the man could not tell she was entirely exhausted and was not her usual self, that she was alright, but deep down the girl knew everyone could see how tormented she looked. "I would appreciate you answering some simple questions for me as it could save Mr. Weasley's life. You don't have any further classes after four o'clock, so you should have some time to spare, is that correct?"

Shit, he had her schedule. He was specifically looking for her. She could not say no. 

"Sure." That was all she uttered, hugging her notebooks closer to her chest as a form of self comfort as Detective Potter smiled kindly at her. 

"Great. Would you mind stepping into this room?" The man gestured towards am empty classroom with the lights on, allowing her to walk forward first before following in after her. He gently shut the door and pointed towards the obvious chair that faced another, there was a respectable distance between the two. "Please, have a seat." 

Hermione let her bag slip to the ground beside her chair as she plopped herself down, feeling her back aching still from falling asleep on her desk last night. She stayed up watching to news in case Ron turned up but for the previous couple of days, it was still complete silence on his disappearance. Her toes wiggled within her sneakers as she rested her notebooks on her lap, using a free hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. The Detective took a seat in front of her, flipping open a case file with Ron's full name written on the front before slipping a slick pen out from his suit jacket pocket. It was the click of the pen that made her anxiety tick. 

"Now, Miss Granger, I understand you are one of, if not, the best academic student at Hogwarts university. You graduated with honours throughout all of your advanced classes in secondary school and are continuing to do the same here until about three weeks ago. Your professors all mentioned noticing a serious and sudden change in you. Is there a specific reasoning for that?" 

He started hard and heavy, making the girl's fingers twitch. 

"Do I need a lawyer for this?" The words tumbled out of her lips before she could comprehend how that would be perceived. Trying to hide her shocked expression with a confused look, she decided to play dumb. The Detective crossed his legs, glancing up at the girl from his black circular glasses. 

"Do you think you need a lawyer for this, Miss Granger?" He was testing her. The girl politely shook her head in response, causing the Detective to smile at her. "Then no, you won't need a lawyer. What is there to hide if you have done nothing wrong?" Hermione gently bit the inside of her cheek. "Honestly, I just have a few questions to ask and then I will be out of your hair. Do feel free to stay silent at any point in time if you wish to exercise your rights, but know I will be writing down every answer you give in whichever form you so choose. Now, back to my original question, is there a specific reason for your grades suddenly dropping or the change in your demeanor?" 

Hermione became on high alert with herself, thinking of ways to be truthful but still conceal the truth. As much as she wanted to tell the entire truth and spill what has been eating her soul away, she did not want to die by the hands of Tom Riddle or the Death Eaters for spilling everything, for that matter. 

"Three weeks ago was the anniversary of my father's death. I usually get emotional during that time every year and it effects my studying habits, but this year was harder than most." She answered honesty, looking down at the nightingale tattoo on her wrist as she did. 

"And why was that? Why was this year harder than most?" 

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I had a bad day on the date of his anniversary that kept becoming worse and I've fallen into a depression. I miss him more everyday that goes by." She was telling the truth, just not the entire truth. The Detective seemed to be pleased with her answer and continued onto a different question. 

"I'm sorry for your loss. Speaking as someone who has lost his parents, I know it can be difficult but eventually, it will get better." Hermione watched the man carefully as he sent her another small smile, remaining quiet. "What is your relationship to Ronald Weasley? Both previously and presently up to the date of his disappearance." 

"I went to secondary school with Ron. We became best friends and then began to date. We broke up about three weeks ago, hence why the bad day got worse." 

"And what happened after the breakup? How did that make you feel? Did you two talk often?" 

The girl shook her head. "How would anyone feel after a break up? Especially with someone you've known for years and have became a close friend to? I felt horrible. But no, we didn't talk much after that. We really only talked once and that was last week." 

"On what day exactly?" The detective chimed, vigorously writing down notes. 

"Tuesday." 

"The last day he was seen?" Hermione stayed silent with a soft head nod in response. "And what did the two of you talk about?" 

"How he and our friends noticed that I have become more unstable. He was offering me comfort, saying that he is always there for me." 

Detective Potter hummed in response, writing down more notes before looking at her straight in the eyes. "Eye witnesses say that the two of you were in some sort of argument in front of the parking lot. Is that true?" 

Hermione felt a shiver roll down her spine. 

"Yes, sorta. It wasn't an argument, more so that I let my emotions fly while he was the calm and collected one. I didn't want to be here anymore and he was chasing after me, yelling my name. I was having a panic attack and it had become another bad day for me. I accidentally took it out on him." She replied honestly, looking down at her finger tips as the Camaro flashed in her mind. 

"And you can confirm that altercation with Mr. Weasley was the last time you spoke with him?" Hermione nodded gently, glancing out the window. It was raining today, one of her favourite kinds of weather, and she suddenly wished she could plant a flower. Once again, the Detective switched his question. "Have you ever seen this man before?" 

Suddenly a mug shot photo of Tom was flipped in front of her eyes, and immediately in that moment, Hermione tried to keep a straight face. _You've heard just a bit too much, I'm afraid._ She even egged it on by squinting at the photo, pretending to take a good hard look. That was the face that smiled at her ever so kindly, the face that called her baby girl, the face that she came all over. It was the face of a murderer but just a little younger as it was taken before he went to prison. 

"I don't think so." She responded fairly, wrapping her arms around her middle. She was purposefully trying to hide the shaking in her hands. 

"You don't think so? Or is that a for sure no?" 

Hermione paused for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts properly. Telling the truth would only get her so far - probably six feet under in the back of a ditch with a sliced throat and rigor mortis. "No, I don't know him." Lie number one. Her anxiety spiked as did her heart rate, watching the Detective carefully as he starred at her hard. Did he know she was lying? Was she a bad liar? Did he not believe her? Her thoughts swarmed with questions and she decided to speak once more to hopefully cover her lie. "Why? Who is he?" 

Playing dumb could get her further. 

"Well, he is a convicted murder felon on the charges of six suspected murders, possibly more due to his gang affiliation. He's done a few years in prison but was recently released." Hermione's eyebrows forwarded, something she failed to pick up on before in the Riddle mansion. 

"Suspected murders? So he was not fully proven guilty or innocent, but still incarcerated either way? How.. How does judge allow only a few years in prison on the basis of suspicion? For six murders?" She questioned curiously to which Detective Potter smiled at. 

"My thoughts exactly. You are a smart girl, Miss Granger. You should maybe look into switching your degree from science to criminal law." Hermione stayed silent, trying to wrap her brain around the situation. Is this why Tom asked Draco if he believed everything he was told? "The reason I am showing you his photo is because he is a prime suspect within this case. We have some strong evidence that guides us towards him - but here is where we things get messy. A few weeks ago, around the time you mentioned your father's anniversary, two bodies were found deceased in this man's home. They were gang members linked to this man and motivation is a little unclear, but not unreasonably assumed considering it was those two gang members that partially aided in this man's imprisonment. What we are trying to figure is why all of the sudden go after some average college student that doesn't cause any trouble, is not linked to a gang, and has no direct connection to this man? Why not finish off the rest of the gang members? What could the correlation be? No one kills for no reason." 

It was her - she was the correlation. It now suddenly dawned on her that it was her fault Ron went missing because she is the only recent connection between Tom Riddle and her ex boyfriend, but how? He was stalking her, no doubt, evident by the roses, the backpack, and driving by the school. Who knows how many times she let her guard down and obliviously missed the footsteps that followed her down a sidewalk, or the peering eyes through her bedroom window late at night. Hermione felt her guilt swell up within her stomach as her brain searched for the reason as to why Tom would go after Ron, until it all became clear. Last week, she guessed that Tom had driven by the school right in front of her very eyes in his Camaro. He must have seen the altercation between her and Ron. 

He surely witnessed what looked to be an argument but was actually herself having a panic attack and freaking out. Tom most likely saw her rushing out of the university, being grabbed by her ex boyfriend, shouting at him to let her go, and then her falling tears. It must have looked almost abusive, like she was trying to get away from him and his abusive tendencies. It seemed like a horrible situation when in reality, it was anything but abusive. Hermione felt her stomach curl as her body tensed, feeling immediate shame swallowing her whole. She wanted to convince herself that Tom meant the words he said, a desperate whore that he could care less for, but something was telling her it was the exact opposite - he cares a little too much about her. He was not trying to get her killed that horrid day, he was putting up a front to avoid giving Draco leverage over her. That is why Draco said she must have been special to stay the night at Tom's house, that is why Tom saved her for last, that is why Tom called her darling after, that is why he did not chase after her when she bolted, and that is why he has been stalking her.

He cares about her, in a fucked up way, and it was all her fault that Ron went missing. 

"I don't know." Hermione responded in a shy whisper, starring off into space while keeping her gaze on the Detective. Lie number two. 

Recalling back on the way Tom morbidly bashed the one man's head against a wall, Hermione shrivelled up inside as she replaced the man with Ron. The cracking of the skull, the gushing of blood, and the grunts becoming silence. Was Ron already dead or barely living? Either way, it was her fault. 

Detective Potter hummed before shutting his case file and notes, clicking and slipping his pen back into his coat pocket. "That's alright, it's really our job to figure out the connection. That's enough questions for the moment. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Granger. I'll be sure to keep in touch with you if we find Mr. Weasley or if we need to talk again. Want me to walk you out?" 

Hermione was quick enough to shake her head, and within the next moment, she was gone. She needed to get away. She needed to escape this insufferable town with its insufferable people. It was all becoming too much weight to bare. The girl decided a long aimless drive around would not hurt for an hour or two, listening to one of her father's favourite 70's playlist that she converted onto her phone. The moment her foot touched the gas pedal, her thoughts were drowned out by the noise and she drifted into a relaxing daze. Soon enough the sky became dark, her gas tank was nearly empty, and the town turned quiet as everyone tucked themselves into bed. An hour turned into many accidentally, but Hermione did not stop until she felt the need to. The girl pulled up into her regular parking spot by her house, letting her fingers grace the end of her car key for a longing moment before turning her car off. It rumbled its unpleasant tune and Hermione was reluctant to leave her warm seat. She knew the moment she stepped through the front door, it would all be the same vicious cycle: her mother would ask her where she had went, then they would eat a bland dinner but Hermione would really push her food around on a plate into the same circular design. She would go take a warm shower and be frightened by how skinny she had become in a few weeks. After that, she would try her very best to focus on her homework or studying but it all would drown out with the same continuous replay of events. First Draco, then the accidental shot, then the bashing, and finally the _darling_. She would scare herself awake in bed multiple times, tossing and turning to become comfortable but never fully achieving it as anxiety would beg her to keep her eyes wide open for any unsettling noise. The next morning she would wake up with tear streaks on her cheeks and dark circles under her eyes, and although she would have slept for about three hours, sometimes four if she was lucky, Hermione would feel extremely exhausted. She would get nervous about leaving her chilly bed until her alarm clock would startle her, and she would somehow muster up the courage to put clothing on before heading to class. 

That was it, that was her vicious cycle that refused to change - until tonight. Had she known this would be the last time she could see her mother for many months, Hermione would have driven home right away after her interrogation. 

With a drained sigh, the girl took her car keys and got out of her automobile. Tucking a loose curl behind her ear, the girl walked around the front of her car to the passenger's side to retrieve her backpack and notebooks. Making sure she had all she required, Hermione turned back towards the front of her house to begin her trek up to the door until she noticed it. Through the large window were sheer cotton white curtins that blocked direct view into her living room, Hermione could make out what looked to be her mother innocently sleeping on the couch and a dark figure looming over top of her eerily tall and close. A lengthy finger softly trailed down her mother's cheek, making the girl utterly paralyzed at the terrifying sight. Someone was in her house about to kill her mother. 

"Mom.." Hermione's voice gently whimpered out into the night, eyes as wide as the sun. Although her rational brain wailed for her to immediately call the police, Hermione could not hold back her sudden spring of panicking emotions. And for that, she screamed to a deadly pitch. "Mom!" 

Instantly dropping all of her things, Hermione bolted up towards the entrance of her home with a fast sprint and racing heart. Coming to find her front door already nudged ajar, more panic settled in. Her mother always kept the door locked. Hermione burst through, immediately rushing into her living room without a single care towards her own safety. 

"Don't touch her! Don't hur-" Her voice was abruptly paused the moment she arrived, coming to a rough halt in her footsteps. 

No one was there. No one was standing in front of her mother or in her living room at all.

It was just her and her sleeping mother who's gentle snores could be heard in the suffocating silence. Standing directly behind the back of the couch, Hermione's eyes darted around the room for any ounce of a stranger but could find absolutely nothing. She realized she was holding her breath, letting it tumble out unevenly as Hermione became shocked. She could have sworn she had seen someone right in front of her mother - a demon in the night. Her mind jumbled as confusion set in, still horrified by what she witnessed, or thought she did. The girl almost broke down right then and there, feeling her heart ache for a release. Was she going crazy? Was it a hallucination? Ron could be dead because of her and she did not want her mother in the same position. She would not know what to do with herself if her mother, her only living parent, was found dead because of her. Reaching out to grasp the soft plush edge of the couch with both hands, Hermione took a slow step forward and gently leaned over to double check her mother was alive. For a splitting moment, her mind trailed down the path of despair of what could have just happened - but no, everything was alright. Her mother gently clutched a plush pillow as her slightly open mouth let out soft puff of air. Hermione carefully watched her chest raise and fall, finding immediate relief.

Everything was alright. Everything was okay. 

Until it wasn't. 

"There you are, Darling." 


End file.
